Stillness in Silence
by jaimi-or-jaemi
Summary: Doctor John Watson runs a rather unique practice, its entire purpose is to help those who are deaf or mute, either by birth, illness or trauma. Sherlock is brought to his practice by his concerned older brother after he spends months refusing to speak. Things do not go as planned or expected for any of them.
1. History

John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, Deaf John, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Slow Build, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, First Time, Fluff, self destructive behavior, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Suicide Attempt, Mutism

 **WARNING** Suicidal thoughts and behaviors in Sherlock's half

-sign language- and "speaking aloud"

* * *

John's POV  
The first time he got an ear infection he was two years old. It would be first of many ear infections, each one progressively worse, and few of them ever treated by a doctor because his father didn't think that an ear infection was worth a trip to the doctor. By the time he was four, he was unable to hear out of his left ear at all, and only certain sounds out of his right. A fight on the playground with a bully would destroy his remaining hearing when he is six.

His alcoholic father yelled and screamed at him, but never bothered to learn sign language to communicate with him. His quiet mum learns the most basic words, just enough that she could try communicating with him. His annoying younger sister ignores him, unless she is trying to pull some sort of prank on him or get him to do something for her. If not for the fact the school provided him with a tutor, and there was an interpreter at the library who understood sign language his ability to communicate would have been profoundly limited.

If not for his tutor Maryann and Thomas interpreter at the local library, he would have had a very lonely life. Making friends was difficult for him, the inability to hear, combined with the fact he only uses sign language, and his initial slowness at reading lips meant that he couldn't keep up with conversations. As it is, books became his favorite things, allowing him to escape a world he had a hard time relating to. With his love of reading, came a love of learning, and he decided by the time he was fourteen that he wanted to be a doctor who specialized in treating people who could not hear.

So he threw himself into his studies, quickly rising to the top of his class and even managing to skip a few levels through sheer stubbornness and hard work. He lucked out, only running into one situation where he had a teacher against a deaf student learning to be a doctor. Apparently, according to him, his inability to hear is a perfect reason for him to not be one. Of course, that just meant he came up with other ways to prove that particular teacher wrong. He was eighteen when he started his residency, the youngest person in his group. All of his medical schooling paid for by grants and scholarships, much to his amazement, so he only had to focus on his schooling, rather than trying to come up with the money to pay for the parts that are out of pocket.

Working in the A&E is a bit difficult at times, particularly when he is with new people who are not quite used to working with someone who is deaf. He doesn't let it bother him. Instead, he focuses on having patience with those people and continues to do his work without paying much attention to the ones who want to be arses.

The only person from his family who shows up when he graduates and is declared a doctor is his mum. His father swears he's a waste of time and space, who would want to hire a deaf doctor? His sister is too busy being drunk and partying to attend. He doesn't know about any of the rest of the family, they're not exactly close because of his father's behavior and he cannot remember the last time he saw any of them. It startles him when Thomas, the interpreter who had first helped him with sign language at the library and Maryann, the tutor from the school both show up. They both came to show their support because he did better than either of them ever thought he would and want to tell him congratulations in person.

What shocks him most however is when he receives a large envelope from his father's relatives in Scotland.

Inside the envelope he finds a letter congratulating him on finishing his degree and residency to become a doctor and apologizing for not being able to come to his graduation due to various reasons from various family members. What really surprised him though, are the check included and a key folded within a second letter. The second letter is from his oldest great aunt, and it has the information for a small building in London that apparently belonged to one of his great uncles who passed away when he was a kid. Since then it has been shut up and unused, his great aunt had paid to have it cleaned and maintained once a year, but otherwise had not cared about it. According to the letter, she hopes it will be of use to him, the entire family had gotten together to collect the money in hopes it would help him with starting his own practice, getting him out of the house of his drunk father.

Amazed, all he can do is stare at the letter for what feels like hours. Since he knows he cannot afford a lawyer to have the truth of the letter and documents confirmed, he takes it to the lawyer who works at the hospital to ask a favor. Hopefully Jake will be able to tell him if it is real or not.

Thankfully, Jake doesn't mind taking a look at the paper, giving him another surprise. The papers are real, completely legit, and already filled with the city of London. He really does own small building and the check is real too.

Just before he left the office, still reeling from the news, the lawyer had tapped his lips to get his attention. He nodded to indicate he was paying attention before Jake started speaking again.

"I can help you set the legal papers up, if you want," Jake offers with a smile, "No fee."

He just stares in shock before his hands move in the question on his mind, -Why?-

His eyes never leave the older man's lips as he waits for an answer.

"Because I think you will do well. I think that it's a great chance for you. I wish there were more who push themselves as hard as you do. Whether they can hear or not," the lawyer answers seriously, eyes locked on his face.

-Thank you,- he replies. Shocked over the offer, because why would someone do that for him? It doesn't make sense, but he could use the help. After all, he doesn't know anything about laws and regulations past what was covered in class about malpractice. –I would love the help.-

"Great! How about Saturday we have lunch and discuss it? I want to check a few things before I write up anything." Jake suggests.

He nods, answering, -I don't have a shift. Though I only work here for the next two weeks since my residency is done.-

"Well that gives me a time line then, what will you do between when your residency ends and when this gets going?" the lawyer inquires with a tilt of his head, still looking in his direction so he can easily read his lips.

-Look over the building and see what I can do with it.- He answers.

Nodding the lawyer doesn't say anything.

-I have a shift in ten minutes, thank you for looking at this and offering to help.- He comments when he realizes what time it is.

Nodding again, Jake smiles at him, "Alright, I'll be ready on Saturday, have a good shift John."

-Thanks Jake,- he answers, smiling back and leaving.

-o-O-o-

Sherlock's POV  
When he was two his parents were worried because he had not started speaking yet. Not long after he turned three they wondered why they ever worried because he never stopped talking. He spent all of his time wanting to know things and stating whatever came to his mind as if he did not have a filter. By the time he was five his hero was his elder brother Mycroft, the brother who was so smart, who read his books to him.

Thankfully his brother wasn't the type to try restricting him, and by time he went to school he had already memorized all of the information for his level plus a few levels a head. While it meant getting high grades was easy, it also meant he was bored all of the time. So while the rest of his classmates worked on the assignments and actually had to take the time to learn things, he studied further, not limiting himself to just one subject, but learning about everything that he could get his hands on, and then a few things he probably shouldn't have.

What was horrible, or at horrible as far as he cared, was he started school at the same time Mycroft left for uni. That meant there was no one there who understood him. He could look at a person and just understand things about them because he was always paying attention to the little details. Observing just like his brother taught him to. Unfortunately, the lack of filter that drove his parents nuts, also drove everyone else nuts, and lead to him getting bullied by some of his classmates.

They were idiots anyways, always so slow to learn, so he spent his time working on experiments and science projects. His focus going from everything to mostly science, its so intriguing with all of its different branches and studies and fields. The only other thing that draws his attention is music. He never understood why his parents decided he needed to take music lessons but it was one thing he ended up appreciating in the long run, learning to play several different instruments in a relatively quick time frame, though his favorite is the violin with its ability to play so many different tones.

By the time he is ready for uni at sixteen, a year later than his brother was, his relationship with his brother was all but destroyed. All of the closeness and affection he felt for his brother was ruined. Not surprising since he rarely got to see him, and when he did, his brother was not affectionate or willing to just spend time with him anymore. The conversations about his questions, books, and experiments stop, no longer by the budding politician. At one point his brother told him he was too emotional, so he did what he thought was most logical and tried to cut the emotions out of his life. Maybe then Mycroft would want to be around him again. Only it never worked.

Uni was both better and worse than sixth form. He managed to test out of all the class he had to take but didn't like, leaving him only with the subjects he wanted. All of which were science based, with a few math ones for the fun of it. Within the first year, he learned to charm his professors so they would let him experiment in the labs, despite the fact that they don't actually like him. It is at the end of the first year that the problems really start.

He meets an older student, one nearing graduation who flirts and coos at him. One who makes him feel special and introduces him to variety of drugs, most of which he uses only once and then never touched again. There is one however which calls to him, calms his mind and makes it stop racing so much: cocaine. Mainly a seven percent solution.

Of course it is not long after that that the flirting and cooing stops. That the person he thought was a friend or something to that effect, starts treating him like everyone else, and gets pissed at him when he doesn't want to have sex. So far in his relatively short life he has not wanted sex with anyone, anywhere, anytime. Nor is he willing to have sex to get the drugs as apparently was expected. After they stop hanging out he has to find other ways to get his fix, so he takes up pickpocket, sleight of hand, and a variety of other tricks to pay for it. Yet still manages to do well in school, at least in the beginning.

Between his seventeenth and eighteenth birthday he overdoses five different times. Each time his brother is the one to find him and nurse him back to health. After a rather horrible eighteenth birthday, where everything that could go wrong does, he goes out to do it again, for the first time on purpose. He is tired of always fighting with his emotions, of his mind always racing, of being so alone no matter where he is or who he is with, of everything. Why should he even bother trying to live when he is clearly not wanted?

Somehow, Mycroft finds him just before his eyes close and his breathing seems to stop, he knows of nothing past that.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	2. Desperate Measures

June 3rd, 2005  
Mycroft's POV  
Six months, he thinks as he looks at his brother through the small window on the bedroom door. It has been six months since the overdose. Six months since he was committed to the rehab center to get cleaned up. Six months since he found him just as his body started to shut down, his breathing becoming dangerously labored and his heart racing. Six months since he lived, just barely, through attempting suicide. Six months since his brother last said a word. Day in and day out the once vibrant boy sits there. Eyes alert, furious and dead, a combination that shake him to his core. Sherlock responds to no one and nothing. The only time he will move is when he eats in the morning and when he showers. Otherwise he stays perfectly still, eyes staring off into the distance, looking out the window of his room without seeing anything or seeing it all.

The first few weeks Sherlock was in here, their parents had tried visiting. He wouldn't even acknowledge their presence. Their mummy hated it, she had left every single time in tears. Their dad had stayed quiet, just silently supporting his wife and younger son, though he also thinks it is because he didn't know what to say. Since Sherlock doesn't have friends or even associates, no one else comes to visit.

"Mr. Holmes?" the head of the facility states, tone questioning and pulling him from his thoughts.

"What can I do for you Doctor Lombard?" he inquires as he turns to the short, balding doctor.

"I am concerned about Sherlock's lack of progress. He is past the withdrawal stage, but he has shown no signs of improvement beyond that. Nothing we have tried has worked so far, I do not wish to suggestion having him sectioned, but at this rate I am not sure what else to do." The doctor replies seriously. "However I did reach out to a few of my associates at different institutions to see if any of them have a suggestion that could work, without revealing his name or history, just the current situation. Several of them suggested Golden Silence, a relatively new practice run by a deaf doctor by the name of John Watson. He apparently has had success with unusual cases."

Eyes narrowing, he studies the doctor for a long minute before nodding once, "Doctor Watson of the Golden Silence practice?" he repeats, to make sure he has the right information.

"Yes, we'll continue to treat him, but," the older man's voice trails off and he understands, this is beyond their regular scope, and they have already kept him longer than they normally would for someone responding the way he is.

"Of course, I will make arrangements," he states clearly, mind already going over the details he will need to take care of.

"I will be waiting to hear from you then," the doctor remarks before nodding and walking away.

Sliding the door open, he steps in, eyes never leaving his brother as he greets him, "Good afternoon Sherlock."

His brother's shimmering eyes flicker over him for the briefest of moments then return to watching out the window.

"I am going to make arrangements for you to come live in my flat for the time being," he comments, a small part of himself hoping for any sort of answer or acknowledgement.

Sherlock continues to stare out the window, lips pressed together in a thin line, eyes following a bird as it glides from tree to water fountain before moving on to watching something else.

"I will make an appointment with my tailor, we can have a few suits made for you." He suggests, remembering when his brother was younger and wanted to have a suit too, just because he had one. He spends the next hour trying to come up with something to get Sherlock to say something, anything.

His only answer is stillness in silence, only his eyes move and his chest in slow breaths give any sign he is more than a statue.

"I will return tomorrow," he finally announces, wanting to get out of here, needing to be somewhere else. He can easily watch a man beaten nearly to death, destroy someone with a few simple words, and play the politics game while appearing not to be involved, but seeing his brother like this is killing him.

Slipping out of the room, he quickly makes his way out to the car waiting for him, his new assistant seated in the back seat, eyes flashing over her smartphone.

"I need all of the information you can collect on Doctor John Watson of the Golden Silence Practice," he directs her before closing his eyes and planning everything else. If this doctor is useful, then perhaps he will be able to help his brother. What all will he need?

His house is already clean, though he may need to Sherlock proof it, if that is even possible. Acquiring clothing for his brother to wear. Hire a cook. Possibly hire a person to stick around when he has to work in order to watch over his brother, just to make sure he does not fall back into any bad habits. What else? There has to be more. Yet for all his intelligence he cannot think of ways to help his younger brother.

"I will have the information on your desk first thing in the morning," she replies when he opens his eyes.

"Perfect," he nods, "What is next on the agenda?"

The next several hours are spent working on whatever is in his important files until it is well past ten pm. He considers continuing but decides he needs to rest to deal with his brother tomorrow, and for however long it takes to get him back.

After calling for a car, he grabs his coat and umbrella before heading out.

The following day, there is a large pile stack of folders waiting on his desk. He spends the first two hours reviewing the files, taking in everything that his PA has collected for him to read on the doctor and his practice. When he is done with the file, he sets it aside, considering the information he has just processed. If what is in the files is correct, and he is moderately certain it is, then Doctor Watson may be able to assist his brother.

Pressing the button on the phone to signal is PA, he comments, "Make an appointment as soon as possible with Doctor Watson, I wish to speak with him about my brother's case."

"Yes sir. Is there anything else?" she replies smoothly.

"No, I will be doing reports until the meeting this afternoon." He tells her, "Notify me as soon as you have the appointment made."

"Yes sir," she agrees.

Releasing the button, he moves on to the next set of folders and begins work in earnest, working through lunch and tea, even though his assistant brings him both. His meeting goes smoothly, almost boring considering how much effort he had to put into the pre-meeting paper work.

After the meeting his PA approaches him with a rather thick folder in her hands, telling him, "I have arranged for you to speak with Doctor Watson this evening at six. It was the earliest available, and does not interfere with your schedule."

He nods, accepting the information, and freezes, that's in thirty-five minutes.

"There is a car waiting for you, I will have the transcripts ready by the end of your meeting and waiting on your desk in the morning." She continues after a brief pause. "I have a copy of your brother's records ready for you, as well." She offers the folder in her hand, expression serious.

"Thank you," he replies.

She nods, turning and heading towards her office while he leaves the building. Sure enough, the sleek black car is idling, waiting for him just outside the door. Sliding into it, he glances at the folder in his hands as the door shuts, knowing everything that is within them, most of it from the last year or so. Of course, there also the accidents from his early teenage years when he was still doing experiments and a few occasions he had to deal with bullies. Sherlock has so many different issues, so many of them old and only recently blooming into something so much worse.

When the car stops in front of a two story building, the driver quietly opens the door.

"Good afternoon sir," she greets him, -Good afternoon sir.-

He smiles slightly, impressed with how smoothly she does both. "Good afternoon, I have an appointment to speak with Doctor Watson," he replies, hands dancing in front of him as he speaks.

Just about beaming, she glances at her computer, hand dropping for a moment to click on the mouse, "He will be with you shortly," she tells him once she has looked at his face again. "Please fill out these forms," the hand that was on the mouse lifts a folder attached to a clip board.

He accepts them, "Of course," he replies, turning and heading towards one of the chairs, he sits down. He settles the file of his brother's records beneath the clipboard and then opens the folder to look through the papers. Quietly he fills them out, his mind recalling everything needed to answer the questions. When he is done, he takes the papers back to the receptionist.

She glances through them, commenting, "It looks like everything is in order."

He is getting ready to turn away when a nurse comes out of the hall, motioning to him, -Mr. Holmes,- "Mr. Holmes."

Turning to her, he nods, moving to her side and waiting patiently.

"I am Ella, head of the evening nursing staff," she introduces herself, then queries, "According to the interview request, you are here on behalf of a family member? Do you have a preferred method of communication?" she speaks aloud and with her hands, though he is startled to see her using ASL instead of BSL.

"Yes," he responds, "I'm here for my brother. I can hear or use sign language, either is acceptable."

She stops signing, but nods and states, "I will put that in the notes, we often get family members of teenagers and adults who have suddenly found themselves in a situation where they need services like this and are the first to seek them out. Right in here," she motions to a door and he steps in, finding himself in what appears to be more like an office than a doctor's exam room.

Sitting at the desk, a sturdy blonde man stands up, "Good evening, I am Doctor John Watson, Mr. Holmes." His hands move in time with his words, eyes focused on his face as he speaks.

"You can use whichever you are more comfortable with, I can use sign language as easily as speaking." He tells the doctor, eyes sweeping over him, studying him. He is everything the file said, and yet he can see there is something more that is missing from the file. Perfect. This doctor might do better with his brother than he could have expected.

-Perfect, I prefer sign language.- The doctor answers, -Please sit, now how may I be of assistance?-

Taking a seat in one of the rather comfortable chairs, he answers in kind, -Any particular reason?-

-I was never a big speaker, even before I lost my hearing, and while I can speak mostly clearly, I occasionally have difficulty with volume, sign language is simpler for me.- the blonde replies smoothly, as if it is something he has been asked before.

He knows from the doctor's file that his home life was not the safest, that his ability to use sign language was because of a school tutor and library interpreter. He also knows that there were concerns over how much the doctor could hear, even before he was completely deaf because of the fact he rarely spoke. His school counselor had made a note about selective mutism. That the young John had not spoken to his classmates unless he had to and only spoke to the teachers when directly asked a question. In the notes he had always tilted his head to the side so his right ear is towards the speaker.

Nodding once, he answers the question put forward, -It is my hope you will be able to assist my brother. He overdosed on cocaine, since then he has not said a word, to anyone or anything. All tests that have been run on him have shown that there is no last damage, so it is unknown why he does not speak. Several people suggested your practice might be able to help.-

The doctor studies him for a long moment before nodding slowly. –I will see what I can do.- the blonde states before using his mouse to do something on his computer. –If you would answer the following in a clear voice since you are able and willing, it will record your answers.-

"Of course," he answers with a nod, he knows several secretaries that use similar devices and programs. It is actually a rather clever way to take notes. It allows the doctor to ask questions and get clarification on items, and he probably has a premade list made so the answers just go with that list.

-Excellent, thank you. Let's begin then,- Doctor Watson comments before beginning a barrage of questions about his brother starting at when he was a child and first started speaking going all the way through now.

A nurse brings in a few bottles of water so that they may have something to drink to keep from having a dry throats. It takes nearly two hours to complete the interview and answer all of the questions. When he is done, he cannot believe how much they have discussed and covered.

-Of course I will need to speak with Sherlock. I understand he is not speaking. But I will still need to speak with him. I understand this case is unusual. I will make an outline of a possible treatment plan and have Mindy make an appointment to speak with him.- Doctor Watson tell him smoothly. –Are evening appointments acceptable? It is when I have the most time, and I have a feeling from our conversation that time will be needed. I may also assign one of the interns or residencies his case as well.-

He considers that for a minute before nodding and answering, "Thank you Doctor Watson, the evening works perfectly."

-For now I would suggest moving him from the rehab center to somewhere he will be more comfortable, with supervision, of course. You have indicated that he plays several instruments and enjoys a variety of types of music. Rather than the silence of the rehab, I would suggest that you provide him a place with an ability for him to either play or listen to music. Complete silence can make things worse, even the deaf listen to music, though ours tends to be the type that can be felt instead of heard.- The doctor suggests calmly.

Again he nods, "I will make arrangements immediately," he replies seriously.

His brother might drive him insane, but he still wants him back, no matter how.

Smiling at him, the doctor stands, offering him a hand, his second hand being used to use ASL, -I hope we are able to help. I will call tomorrow or the day after at the latest.-

"You use both types of sign language?" He queries, slightly shocked since he had not expected it.

-Actually, I can use BSL and ASL fluently, and pidgin my way with LSF and Irish sign language speakers.- the blonde replies with his lips quirking in a smile afterwards.

-Impressive,- he replies with ASL

-How many can you use?- the doctor inquires, returning to BSL smoothly.

-I can speak in nine different languages and use three different forms of sign language,- he answers, also returning to BSL.

-That's more impressive than my two languages.- Doctor Watson states as he motions to the door.

A small smile quirks his lips, -I learn relatively quickly, as does my brother.-

-Does he know BSL or ASL?- the blonde inquires, watching for his response.

-I believe he knows BSL but I do not know how long it has been since he used it. We used to converse in it when he was younger.- He answers, remembering that his brother knows six of the same languages he knows because he used to make it into a game. At least, he used to know six languages, he doesn't know if Sherlock still remembers them.

The doctor escorts him out, and he turns, offering the folder he had with him the entire time. –His medical records, from birth to now, every time he has seen a doctor or medical professional.-

-Generally we wait to gather those after the patient has agreed to treatment,- Doctor Watson chides gently, -However I understand why you have them and are offering, so I will accept. Though they will not be used unless I absolutely must.-

That actually pleases him, showing him that the doctor wishes to respect his brother's privacy without having met him. Not enough are like that, many just accept that he is his brother's guardian while he is going through this and take his acceptance as enough.

–I understand.- he comments, -I will be awaiting that call.-

Nodding to the other staff, he leaves, a small glimmer of hope beginning to form. He is desperate to get his brother back, and it looks like he might just have a way to do so. That's a start.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	3. Nice to Meet You

June 13th, 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
He had awoken in searing pain, mind hurling insult after insult at him as it raced in circles, never slowing and never stopping. All he wanted was his mind to stop racing, to stop feeling as if he was nothing, worthless, alone. Even here and now that is all he can think as he stares out the window, watching the birds that are so much freer than he has ever been. Since waking he had not said a word, no reason to speak and even if he wanted to, he hadn't been able to. Twice he tried to tell his brother to just go, to just let him die, to just stop trying. He knows Mycroft doesn't give a damn about him, hasn't given a damn about him since he left for uni.

Closing his eyes, he tries to force the voices clamoring in his head to shut up. He tries to stop all the facts and everything he has seen, the truth that he knows without question. He knows that the only reason Mycroft bothered finding him or saving him is their parents. He knows that Mycroft does not cared about him. He hates this place, hates all these people and hates himself.

"Sherlock, time to get up and get dressed. Your brother is coming for you today, you are leaving our establishment, that must make you feel better," the orderly states as he steps into the room without bothering to knock.

That pisses him off, but he says nothing, barely even moving in response.

"The sooner you are dressed, the sooner we can release you into your brother's care." The orderly informs him.

His eyes skitter over the orderly. What a boring man. He is in his early thirties, hates his wife and three children, cheating with another orderly, failed out of uni twice. He hates his job. He hates his life. Completely boring.

He hates getting dressed in front of others, but as a suit is laid out in front of him, he decides he can force himself to get dressed if it will get him out of here quicker. Thankfully, the orderly turns away from him, that gives him a moment of privacy to change clothes. Once dressed, he taps his finger tips against the glass, catching the boring orderly's attention.

"Come on," the orderly comments, opening the door and motioning for him to move through it.

Quickly he strides through the halls, almost leaving the orderly who is escorting him to his brother behind as he makes his way to the lobby. Nothing in that room was actually his, and the suit he is wearing must be new because it almost fits perfectly. Still, he is leaving this place and that alone is worth dealing with his brother.

"Sherlock," the doctor grumbles giving him an annoyed expression.

He ignores it, focusing on his brother instead. Unsurprisingly, his expression and stance doesn't say anything. So he must be annoyed to have to take time out of his day to do this. It's not like he asked Mycroft to save him. Actually he would have been happier if he hadn't.

"Sherlock," his brother murmurs, but it is not as annoyed as he expected. Actually, it is rather flat tone, no infection of any sort.

He arches an eyebrow at his brother in response.

"I have arranged for you to stay at my flat, there will be someone there at all times for the time being. For now, my assistant, and," his brother motions to the dark-haired woman to his left, "Miss Morel will be around."

He doesn't say anything, doesn't even consider saying something. A part of him wants to know why Mycroft even bothers. His brother has been too busy for him the last thirteen years, why would this be any different? His brother was not helping because he cared, he was helping out of obligation. As soon as possibly he try and slip away in order to finish the job. It's not like he's wanted anyways.

"Shall we go?" the PA queries, glancing up from her phone, eyes sweeping over him before focusing on his brother. "I believe there is an appointment to be kept."

"Of course," his brother murmurs, "Ready?" the question is directed at him.

He just tilts his head to the side, eye twitching in a fashion he is aware his brother understands.

The four of them quietly leave the rehab. If nothing else, he is happy he is not going to be there any more, the food was horrible, the people annoying and boring, nothing for him to physically do. He was so bored but there was nothing, nothing worth doing. All he wanted to do is fade away.

In the car, the PA and his sitter, for that's what Miss Morel is, sit across from him and his brother. The ride to his brother's flat is quiet, for which he is thankful, he doesn't want to listen to any more voices that are just grating on his nerves. When the car stops, he expects to be at his brother's flat, instead they are out front of a two story building with golden tone bricks and a sign that read 'Golden Silence'.

The two women are the first out of the car, though they did not go far. Leery, he climbs out and glances about, noting the where they are in London and the fact it is nowhere near his brothers flat.

A part of him wants to ask why but his throat seems swollen shut when he wants to speak, so he says nothing at all.

Just as quietly the four of them head inside the building with the two women positioned behind him and his brother so he cannot turn and bolt. He knows his brother's PA is faster and far more dangerous than one would gather from her looks. While the second female is not as good, he is sure, he is also sure she is better than average.

"Mr. Holmes?" a woman comments as she approaches, hands moving in sign as she does so.

His brother turns to face her but she is not looking at Mycroft, she's looking at him. Why is she looking at him?

"Right this way," she continues, hand still speaking as she looks at him. Glancing at his brother's she states, "You may wait here, in the first visitor's room, or return later this evening Mr. Holmes." She does not use sign language with his brother.

Mycroft motions to a collection of chairs, and the three move over there, leaving him with the woman.

She smiles at him warmly, motioning for him to follow her before walking at a pace he could easily keep up with down a small hall behind the receptionist.

"Right in here please," she tells him, still echoing everything with sign language.

Squaring his shoulders because he is sure this is just another person who is going to be an idiot or act like he is doing this on purpose, when he is not. Only his thoughts are stopped by the sight of the sturdy blonde, with vibrant blue eyes, standing there at almost parade rest, a slight smile tilting his lips as his hands move. The first is directed to the female who brought him in, which is probably good since he is not paying attention.

Then those eyes turn to him, and steadily, as if it is a normal occurrence, the man smiles at him, and it's like a sucker punch. It is not the type of smile he normally sees on people's faces. It is not fake or shallow or overly emotional. It's accepting and warm. Motioning to one of the chairs, the blonde lifts his head slightly before signing, -Hello Sherlock, my name is John, nice to meet you.-

It is so sincere that he finds himself staring, because no one ever looks at him like that. Who is this person? Without actively thinking about it, he takes a seat, still watching the blonde.

That smile seems to get warmer as the blonde settles into his seat, not saying or signing, merely there. It is unusual. No one sits with him in silence. Everyone tries to fill it with noise, to make him speak, to force something that is just not there. His nerves are on edge because no one does this, and he is waiting for the shoe to drop, the annoyance to begin.

Quietly, the blonde starts tapping at the keys of his computer, occasionally his eyes flicker in his way, but he doesn't feel any pressure. It is odd, just sitting here with someone who is not trying to force him to speak, just sharing a space with someone. Slowly he finds himself relaxing into the chair, eyes roaming around the room in order to learn about the person he is currently sharing a space with.

He is deaf, a full-fledged doctor, prefers muted colors but is not tied to the masculine colors, enjoys music he can feel since he cannot hear, likes to read, has a wide variety of reading interests, and is surprisingly intelligent. There is something more though, no one ever looks at him as warmly as this John has without knowing him. Does the doctor know his history? That he is a waste of human space. That he hasn't spoken or responded except for occasional body motions since he nearly died of an OD? That he hadn't wanted to survive that OD?

Three hours pass with them just sitting there, John quietly typing at his computer, he just watches. The only break from this is when a nurse comes in with water and tea. At that point the doctor thanks her, absently motions to the pot as if to tell him he can have some, but nothing is said in any sort of language in his direction past that.

He almost hesitates before making himself a cup. When he takes a sip, he is shocked when it is not cheap tea but a decent blend.

They share another two hours before a different person comes to the door, this one he has a hard time identifying a gender on, their clothes being rather loose and well kept but not highlight any particular feature.

-Everyone has gone except yourself, Mr. Holmes, and his party,- the person signs in BSL at John.

-Thank you,- John signs in response, -Go home, I will lock up.-

Nodding, the person glances at him one last time before leaving.

It is another hour before he realizes he needs to use the bathroom but that requires him asking where it is. How to ask when he cannot make himself speak even when he wants to?

As he glances about he realizes that a note pad with pen has been set on the front of the desk. Picking it up, he scrawls, Where is the loo?

-Out the door, down the hall to the left second door.- John replies in sign language after reading the note.

He nods, leaving the room to use the bathroom. Afterwards, he washes his hands and stares into the mirror in confusion. Why is this doctor showing so much faith in him? He's quite sure there is variety of drugs he could find, yet the doctor is acting like he is not worried about that. They are just sitting there in companionable silence. It's unsettling and marvelous and a bit overwhelming.

-It is nearing nine at night, would you care to visit tomorrow?- John finally inquires.

He blinks a few times, tilting his head and considering it before nodding once slowly.

-Then I shall make arrangements with Mr. Holmes to ensure you have a ride, and with Ella, to arrange for dinner. Any preference, feel free to write it down.- the blonde comments with another warm smile.

Glancing down at the notepad, he thinks about it a moment before writing in one of his favorite Chinese take away items, but he doesn't actually expect to get it.

-Excellent,- John tells him, -I have enjoyed the companionship. Nice to meet you Sherlock.-

He is dazed as he heads to the lobby and his waiting brother. Today has not gone as expected.

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	4. At Mycroft Flat

**Note:** Sherlock's headspace is currently all over the place, so this chapter is more stream of thoughts than anything else.

* * *

Sherlock's POV  
The ride to his brother's flat is quiet, neither his brother nor either woman says anything.

He spends the ride staring out the window and thinking about today. He just spent the last six hours sitting with whom he assumes is his newest doctor without saying a word and the doctor just accepted it. He wasn't forced to speak or interact. They just shared companionable silence and he was still reeling. When was the last time anyone just sat with him and accepted his presence? Not since he was a child and Mycroft would read to him. How is he going to tell his brother he wishes to do it again? He could write it down, or maybe steal his brother's phone and text him.

When they get to the flat his brother's PA stays in the vehicle while Mycroft, Miss. Morel, and him all get out to head inside. It seems to be the same, still feels like it is cold and unlived in, not even like a crash pad. Though he does notice there are a few small changes with the décor, anything that could be considered dangerous is nowhere to be seen.

"Your regular room is ready for you," his brother finally states, as he comes to a stop beside the stairs. For some reason his brother seems stiff and just a touch unsure of himself as he continues to speak, "Also, I have assembled a small lab in the basement for you to run experiments on. Doctor Watson suggested that I encourage you to return to healthy activities, and I have accepted that suggestion. There is a new section in the library on a variety of sciences. While I am sure you do not wish to attend university at this point, I thought you may be interested in the books still." Pausing for a breath, Mycroft motions to the woman, "Miss Morel is staying in the downstairs guest bedroom for the duration of her stay."

He nods, not saying anything. A small part of him wonders why his brother even bothered with the suggestion but he does not plan to ask, because as long as he does not ask, he can take it as an apology for hating him or not wanting him.

Wandering away, he heads up the stairs to his bedroom, opening the door and slipping in. Looking around, he notices that the vast majority of his things have been left alone, though he knows that his brother must have gone through his things to make sure he does not have a stash anywhere. The bed is made up with his favorite blankets and sheets, and sitting by the window is a music sheet stand with four instrument cases.

Despite the fact he does not want to be curious, he heads over to the cases, wanting to see what's in them. Kneeling down, he opens the first case, discovering a beautiful natural oak wooden flute within it. Several minutes are spent with his fingers tracing the grain, getting a feel for the weight of it, before carefully replacing it in the case. The second case is a gorgeous violin. It's far better than any violin he has ever had a chance to use before. Gently, with the greatest of care, he sets the violin back in the case once he is done stroking it and testing its strings. The third case belongs to a skillfully carved Celtic lap harp of the palest ash. When he strums it gently, he discovers he enjoys the variety of sounds it makes, the pureness of the cords. After the violin, the harp has always been a favorite though he spent years getting tormented by bullies for playing such a perceived feminine instrument. The last case holds a beautiful, rich red wood cello that he touches and explores without removing from its case since it is the biggest of his new instruments.

Tomorrow he will look at the new books and the lab. Tomorrow he will see if he can figure out Mycroft's real motivation. Tomorrow he will see if John actually wants him around or not. Tomorrow.

Quickly stripping and changing into a different his pajamas he crawls into bed even though he has not eaten yet. Honestly, he is very tired of the forced food meals that he barely pecked at. Sleep comes surprisingly quickly, and is far better than any he has had in months.

He's awake four hours later, his mind automatically coming online even though he would really prefer to still be asleep.

Getting up, he roots through the dresser and closet looking at his clothing options before settling on some skinny jeans and a dark colored shirt. Slipping a pair of sneakers on after some socks, he leaves the room, quietly making his way to the basement in order to look at this lab his brother has supposedly set up for him.

He is rather surprised by what he finds.

It could easily rival the lab at the school he had attended for a while. The equipment was all carefully placed within glass fronted cupboards he cannot recall being their previously. He can see all the basic equipment like beakers, microscopes, ladles, stir rods, and funnels, and more carefully organized so he can easily get to any of it. Within the mini fridges he discovers even more items and things of use. There are chemicals and elements, and all sorts of other things. While most of it is geared towards chemistry, he notices that some of it is stuff for other sciences.

There is even a bookcase full of books on the equipment and there uses. Along with an entire shelf full of empty folders and writing material so he can record any project he does himself.

He knows he is frowning as he moves around the basement, exploring all of the things within, and spotting a notepad and pen, at the top of it is a note telling him he can request whatever is missing within reason.

His eyes narrow as he considers the lab before giving a small shake of his head.

Heading upstairs, he leaves the lab with questions burning through his mind. He is not surprised when he discovers his brother in the library, settled behind the desk that takes up almost an entire wall as he works through paper work. Even though his brother has an office, he knows that Mycroft prefers the library because it stays warmer.

His eyes flicker over his brother, trying to read him the way he reads other people but as always there is nothing there. Mycroft is as blank as always when he looks at the older man, and he wants to scream, but knows that no noise is going to escape his lips, because he still hasn't figure out why speaking is so hard. He used to never shut up, hoping that maybe if he spoke enough something would catch his brother's attention or let him find someone else with shared interests, only it never happened. Now he cannot seem to speak at all, trying makes his throat swell shut and causes panic to rise sharply in his chest.

"Good morning Sherlock," his brother greets him. Looking up from whatever he is working on to continue, "Those three bookcases there are for your science books so far."

His eyes follow his brother's motion, and without actually thinking about it he wanders over to look over the books in question, some he has read before, others are new. All of them are in excellent condition.

Several minutes are spent in surprising silence as he looks over the book options, mind still whirling, because he doesn't understand. Mycroft is doing more than he has to in order to play the part of a caring brother, but he is quite sure that his brother does not care, so why is he playing the part? Damn it, why does he have to be the one person that reading with a glance is so hard with?

His thoughts are interrupted by the person in question commenting, "As we were leaving Doctor Watson texted me. According to the message you would like to have another appointment tomorrow afternoon. Is that correct?"

Yes, he wants to say, but ends up swallowing hard instead before he finally nods instead.

"I will have Anna make the arrangements," his brother comments, "Unfortunately, I have appointments tomorrow afternoon that means I cannot attend with you."

He nods, keeping his face neutral as he goes back to looking at the books, his mind whirling and questioning what's going on. Eventually the silence between them starts to feel oppressive, rough, hard on his nerves, makes him want to scream just to get some sort of reaction. Instead he leaves the room, heading to his bedroom where he eyes the instruments before pulling the violin out and setting in to play for a bit. It's been a while, but his body still remembers and he allows himself to get lost in the sounds, letting it do his speaking since he cannot seem to speak himself. Too bad no one actually understands what he is trying to say with it.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	5. Dinner at the Office

Sorry this is a few hours late, its been one of those weeks, every time I think I am going to have time to write, something comes up.

* * *

June 14th, 2005  
John's POV  
First thing this morning he checks his schedule, looking over what patients and paper work he will be dealing with. He is happy when he sees Sherlock's name scheduled in at five pm. He puts in a request for dinner to be ordered right before the staff leaves for the night on the messaging system, and immediately gets a no problem from the ladies up front. Normally when he has meals with a new patient it is at lunch time. Once that is done, he prepares for his day a head, double checking his notes for other patients he will be seeing.

His day goes relatively quickly. Mikayla and her daughter Linda are his first appointment of the day at eleven am, Linda had been born with hearing issues, and while not completely deaf, Mikayla is concerned that her daughter will lose the rest of her hearing, and has decided that getting her help now is waiting until it's too late. Thankfully the young girl is more than willing to work with them. He has already made arrangements for her to join a local deaf and hard of hearing play group. His second patient of the day is Jenson, a young man who has not been the easiest to work with because he is still trying to deny the fact that he is probably permanently deaf. He's happy he has lunch after he is done dealing with Jenson, because that young man pushes his buttons in all the worse ways. After lunch he has Carl who is actually a patient who wants to eventually become one of their councilors, right now though he is still working on learning to speak and sign at the same speed so he can deal with both family and patients. His last patient before he has a little office time is Meri and her parents Nick and Ethan. Meri was recently adopted, and the moment her new parents discovered that she had hearing issues that had not been appropriately dealt with they had went looking for ways to help. Normally Meri sees Doctor Lang but current, Doctor Lang is out of town for a medical conference.

When Sherlock first gets there, the nurse on duty pops in to tell him, -Your last appointment is here, Ella is going to place the food order in half hour or so, that way it gets here just before its time to go since you're staying late with the new patient. I'll bring it in as soon as it gets here. The only person with him is Miss Morel.-

-Thank you Andrea,- he replies, -please bring him back and thank Ella for me.-

-Of course John,- she replies before withdrawing.

He glances about his office for a moment, making sure that there is a note pad and pen available for Sherlock's use before standing as he spots the door opening the rest of the way.

-Hello Sherlock,- he signs, sitting back down after the younger man sits down in front of the desk.

The dark-haired man gives him a closed off look. Studying him with wide eyes that seem both flat and vibrant all at once, reflecting the inner turmoil he must be feeling.

-Andrea will bring us dinner before she goes,- he comments as he studies his newest patient. At this point he has already decided Sherlock will be one of his since he doesn't have to worry about the time or getting home to a family. He is also sure that will give the younger man a chance to relax around him.

Light eyes blink at him in shock before Sherlock slowly nods.

Like the previous day, he turns his attention to doing paperwork rather than focusing directly on Sherlock. Despite that, he is still very aware of what the younger man is doing.

When he first met Mycroft Holmes two weeks prior he had seen a man full of despair, worry, and almost out of options. He had reviewed the medical files provided even though he normally prefers to get the patient's consent, not just the family member making the appointment. What he found in those records had concerned him, and he had immediately made up a list of things that could be done to help the situation, sending the recommendations to Mycroft while preparing a plan for himself. Then he had met Sherlock last night and the first thing he thought was: here is a person who needs someone to be there and acknowledge them as a person in pain. They had sat in his office for six hours just adjust to each other's presence. He had been shocked when Sherlock had accepted his offer of coming back today and dinner.

The first hour is spent with him working and keeping an eye on the younger man who is watching him with sharp, unsure eyes.

Just after six pm, Andrea knocks at the door and presses the small flash button he has had installed on all of them, a moment later she is slipping in with the take away and dishes.

-Thank you,- he tells her once she has set it down.

-You're welcome,- she responds with a nod to both of them before slipping out of the office.

Sherlock stares at the food for a few minutes before he finally signing, -Thank you.- The younger man's hands tremble slightly as he makes himself a plate.

He nods in response, smiling and making a plate for himself.

They eat in companionable silence, simply relaxing and sharing a space as they eat their dinners. When they are done with dinner, he cleans the mess up, trashing the food containers and stacking the plates on a tray used for just that purpose.

Sherlock goes back to watching him while he returns to reports. He is actually nearly caught up on his reports, which is a rare thing.

It is nearing nine pm again when his companion finally asks, -Why?-

What a loaded question, he thinks. That could go so many ways. Why is he waiting for Sherlock to want to communicate? Why is he not pushing the younger man to speak? Why is he not speaking aloud? Why is he willing to sit there so long in silence?

-Silence and acceptance are sometimes the foundation of understanding.- He eventually answers.

That answer seems to startle Sherlock. His bright eyes study him in shock and distrust.

He understands, truly, he does. It's very easy to distrust everyone and anyone when every time he's tried to trust in the past he has been hurt. It's hard to accept help when offers of help would have been back handed and full of expectations. Trying is so very hard when there is always something making the pit of his stomach clench in worry. It's so very difficult to reach out, ask for help, believing when betrayal litters the past and clogs the future in pain.

-I don't expect you to believe me, I know at this point I wouldn't believe me, but that is the truth.- he states, meeting and keeping Sherlock's gaze.

A frown curves the younger man's lips as he studies his face, probably looking for whether he is being truthful or not.

Sherlock's head jerks towards the door, a scowl on his face as he glares at it.

Ah, someone must have knocked. Since his staff is gone, it is probably Miss Morel. He clicks on the small button that flashes the entrance light, and has to keep himself from rolling his eyes when the younger man continues to scowl at the door.

Lightly he wraps his knuckles on the table, catching Sherlock's attention, -Since it is nine pm, would you like to make arrangements for later this week? Tomorrow I do not have time, but the night after or this weekend could be arranged.-

Those light eyes study him for a minute before the younger man slowly nods, -Yes,- he answers, though there is hesitation to his motions.

He smiles warmly, standing and motioning to the door.

Still scowling, the dark-haired man stands as well, reminding him that Sherlock is taller than him.

Quickly they move over to the door, he opens it up to find Miss Morel standing there, an impatient expression on her face.

-Miss Morel, I am certain my staff asked you to wait in the front room unless there is an emergency.- He remarks, keeping his eyes on her face.

She flushes, her lips twitching in a frown.

When she does not comment or tell him why she is there, he continues, -If you cannot listen to simple instructions, I will have to ask Mr. Holmes to send someone else with him in the future, or make arrangements to have an extra member of my staff stay here late in order to insure that we are not disturbed while speaking.-

She scowls at him further, but still doesn't comment.

There is a very light touch on his elbow, drawing his attention to Sherlock.

–I don't think she knows BSL.- the younger man signs slowly, hands moving a bit unsure of themselves.

He nods and frowns, pulling his phone out of his pocket and quickly typing a message.

=Mr. Holmes. The woman you sent as Sherlock's escort does not understand BSL and does not follow instructions. Can other arrangements be made?= JW

Less than a minute later the phone vibrates, a new message coming up.

=My apologies, other arrangements are being made now.= MH

He nods again, tucking his phone in his pocket. Turning to Sherlock, he bids him, -Have a pleasant evening.-

A slow nod is the only response he gets, but it's still better than what he hoped for.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	6. New Minder

First off: Sorry this is a few hours late, I could have sworn I typed all this up, but when I opened the files, both on Word and Google Docs it was no where to be found.

Secondly: my muses threw me for a loop, I totally did not expect this chapter to go the way it did.

* * *

June 14th, 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
Since he has to use the loo, he leaves the office to head in that direction, ignoring the squeak of Miss Morel who wants to know where he is going. It gives him a minute to catch his breath, splash cold water on his face, and just breathe. He really hates the fact he has a sitter, though he gets it to a point, after all it looks good for Mycroft, and is probably part of his release conditions. What he wants to know is why it has to be an idiot. Though he must be out of practice because he had not realized it immediately, and he should have, he so very should have.

Once he feels collected again, he heads back to the office, not surprised to see that John has returned to typing while she is pacing in the hall. Glancing about, he spots the button that the doctor had mentioned and presses it, looking in the office at the same time, noticing the small light above the door he had missed earlier, and the light on the desk which he had noticed but originally thought was for the computer. That's actually an interesting set up, he thinks. It lets him know someone is there without having to worry about whether he feels the vibrations or not.

The blonde looks up, smiling at him before clicking something and standing.

-You're brother said he would deal with her,- John tells him, waving a lazy hand in her direction when done signing.

He nods slowly, not bothering to answer in any other way.

-Shall we see if your ride is here?- the blonde queries.

Again he nods.

With a small smile on his lips, the doctor shows him to the outer doors, ignoring Miss Morel as he does so much to her annoyance according to the squeak of indignation she makes. That is amusing and proves his point about her being foolish since John can't hear it, making it pointless. When they reach the outside of the building, one of his brother's cars pulls up and the PA climbs out, dark eyes darker than normal and full of annoyance. A moment later a cool mask covers her face.

Turning to the blonde standing beside him, she signs politely, -Doctor Watson, Mr. Holmes asks that I extend his fullest apologies. I will be insuring that Miss Morel is replaced with a better assistant, one who can follow directions and understand sign language.-

Seriously, John nods once, before glancing at him with a smile. –Until later, have a good night Sherlock.-

He blinks and nods, not answering again, but shocked when he realizes that John has already personalized his name, not spelling it out, yet he understood that the 's' followed by a sharp, quick sweeping motion was his name.

A slow smile curves his lips at that realization. It is something personal just for him, without anyone else forcing him to. Even though he is moderately certain John is supposed to be his doctor, he is acting more like a friend, or at least someone who wants him around and wants him to be comfortable. No one else is acting like that.

"If you're ready Sherlock?" his brother's assistant murmurs softly, keeping her voice low, which is surprising, why is she keeping her voice down.

He nods distractedly, hands flickering for a moment towards John, -Goodnight.-

The blonde nearly beams at him before heading back inside and he hears the click of the lock. Heading to the car, he slides in it, looking out the window rather than looking at either of the women.

The ride to his brother's home is quiet, Miss Morel is sulking and Anna is typing away on her phone. When they get to the house, he quickly gets out of the car and heads directly to his room, on his way there he hears Anna light into Miss Morel.

A small smile plays at the edges of his lips as he closes the door to his room, selecting the violin from the collection of instruments and setting to playing, slowly at first than a bit more, getting back into the feel for it. He doesn't pay attention as time flies by and he continues to play until he is tired. When he does get tired, he tucks his violin away and collapses on his bed, not bothering to change before falling asleep for a few hours.

It's three hours later when his mind snaps back on and he stretches before heading to his bathroom in order to take a nice relaxing hot shower. Since it is the middle of the night, he debates about whether to play with one of his instruments, read, or go through his new lab.

Instead of getting in another suit, he puts on some comfortable jeans, a tight t-shirt, and his tennis shoes before heading downstairs to the lab area. He doesn't know what he wants to work on right now, but he does want to spend more time going through it to see how well it was put together.

He doesn't know how long passes between when he starts going through things and when his brother appears at the door, his suit mildly disheveled and looking sleepy.

"Sherlock," Mycroft quietly states, "Miss Morel is gone. Anna will be selecting a better assistant for you."

He pauses what he is doing, not turning towards his brother, but tilting his head slightly so he is looking in that direction.

"One of us should have interviewed her rather than using the human resources. Anna has already selected three to interview, and will have a person by this afternoon." His brother tells him seriously, "Arrangements have already been made for you to see Doctor Watson tomorrow and to possibly have an outing on Saturday."

He nods slowly, eyes closing for a moment.

"Breakfast is on the table if you are hungry. I was not sure if you wanted to take vitamins or eat the foods with the ones you need, so both options are available." Mycroft continues before nodding and heading upstairs.

Frowning at the bookshelf in front of him, he considers that for a few minutes, wondering if they are really vitamins or if they are the other pills those blasted antidepressants the rehab tried to force him to take. What if they really are just vitamins? He knows he is not in the best shape. All he has to do is look in a mirror to know that. The vitamins might actually help.

Closing his eyes, he forces the noise of his mind racing to slow down by just focusing on one thing. His mind goes back to the fact John has already individualized a name, from there he focuses on remembering every moment of the visit to the office from the time he got there to the time he left. He had communicated a little bit, not a lot, but enough to have a small conversation. It had been nice not to be forced to communicate if he did not want to.

Perhaps if he shows he can 'behave' the minder will be relieved of duty and he can go back to spending time on his own. He would really rather not have to deal with having a minder, but he knows if he tries escaping the minders attention he will probably be forced into a situation he doesn't like again, such as being put back in a rehab or sectioned.

Sighing, he puts what he was doing away before heading up to the dining room where he discovers a selection of foods. All of them things he has enjoyed and doesn't mind eating. There are a lot of foods he has issues with the tastes, scents, or textures of but even when speaking comes easy to him he cannot explain it.

Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath, before opening them back up and making his way to the table to sit down. Chewing on his lower lip, he decides what he wants to eat. Hesitantly, he makes himself a small plate and nibbles on it, and spends nearly two hours working on eating what's on his plate. He's rather happy there is a full pot of lemon tea. When his plate and the pot are empty, he stands and stretches, returning to his room.

This time it is his cello he gets outs to use before settling on the edge of his bed while he gets a feel for it. It has been years since the last time he touched a cello. The cords come to him slowly but after hours of focus, he has it back to where he does not sound like a fool who doesn't know what he is doing.

A knock at his door draws him out of his focus. Blinking, he sets the instrument on his bed, moving over to the door to open it, he reveals his brother standing there.

"Anna has found a possible assistant for you. He is waiting in the library," his brother tells him, "I have a bit more paperwork to do, afterwards would you like to have dinner?"

He blinks, startled because why is Mycroft asking if he would like to have dinner? Since when did he care if he wants to or not? Or about him for that matter? Mycroft hasn't cared about him in years. This doesn't make any sense.

Nodding slowly, he considers asking what's going on, but he has been the 'stupid one' too long and doesn't want to be the stupid one here either. So instead he just follows his brother through the house after closing his bedroom door.

In the library he finds himself confronted by a slender man a bit shorter than him but taller than John with dark eyes, black hair, pale skin, and a rather nice suit.

"Sherlock, this is Jim Moriarty, he is on loan to us from MI6," Anna tells him as she rises from her spot on the sofa in front of the fireplace.

His eyes sweep over the slender man again. Something seems off with him, like he's not quite there even though he is standing in front of him.

-Hello,- the dark-haired man signs, -She indicated that you rarely sleep, don't communicate much, eat as little as possible, and bounce between activities depending on your energy levels.-

He nods slightly, acknowledging the statement but not answering past that. Turning to his brother, he nods again before leaving the room, heading back to his bedroom to toy with his violin some more while thinking about his newest minder. He wasn't expecting a man, particularly not one who registers a lot like Mycroft when he looks at him. Just what he needs, another person in his life who thinks he is an idiot that he cannot read just by looking at him.

He is surprised when he isn't followed, though he leaves the door partly open as he heads to the bed, grabbing the cello to put it away before moving on to pull the violin out of its case and set to playing. Playing always makes him feel better, gives him a way to work through whatever is bothering him, even if no one else understands. It's soothing, particularly when he is confused about something.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	7. Strings

June 15th, 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
Several hours pass with him playing his violin in his room before his new minder knocks lightly at his door, staying just outside his room.

Lowering his violin slightly, he turns so he can look at him, studying him as he considers why he is here.

-Dinner is done, if you are interested.- Jim tells him before heading off.

He frowns at the spot the slender agent had just been standing, his mind swirling the facts around as he is drawn out of his apathy towards the situation. Why is the agent using sign language? He is certain the dark-haired man can speak, and yet he is not. He should ask and see what sort of answer he gets or doesn't get.

Putting his violin away, he heads downstairs, surprised and happy to see that it is just him and his brother in the dining room when he gets there.

"Good evening Sherlock," Mycroft murmurs softly, "I had Miranda make roasted chicken and steamed vegetables for dinner."

He nods, settling on one of the chairs and glancing about trying to bring himself to say something, anything. Only it doesn't seem to work, twice he opens his mouth to ask about his newest minder. Particularly why he reads so much like Mycroft. Both times it feels like his throat swells shut and he cannot force himself to speak no matter how much he really wants to. It's very frustrating.

Closing his eyes, he shoves those thoughts away for a moment.

"I have an appointment to speak with Doctor Watson about further measures I can take to assist you in being comfortable. We will not be discussing anything beyond that," his brother's lips quirk in a smile, "I have a feeling that even if I was to try and get the doctor to discuss your visits he would not, he strikes me as the stubborn type. It is a shame he cannot hear, he would have made an excellent agent."

He can feel his own lips curving in a smirk of his own. John has surprised him several times in the two times they have met so far.

Actually, with John is where he feels the most comfortable.

Before he has a chance to start reflecting on that again, Miranda comes bustling in, chattering as she does so about how pleased she is to see him back, how he just needs to make a list of things he wants to eat and they will be added to the menu, and on and on she goes to the point his ears start to hurt.

"Miranda, quiet please, you are aggravating Sherlock further." his brother calmly but firmly orders.

Her mouth snaps shut quicker than he thought possible as she sets the plates in front of them before retreating to the kitchen once more. A few minutes later she returns with her shopping list paper and a pen, setting both down beside him with a little message written at the top.

~I'll make your favorites as long as you'd like, just write them down.~

The small smirk that had curved his lips earlier returns as he picks the pen up and jots some of the things he likes best down. He doesn't actually expect her to make them daily, but maybe he will get them occasionally. That would be nice. She's always had a bit of a soft spot for him judging by all the times she has snuck him treats even when she wasn't supposed to.

Dinner goes quietly. He is rather thankful that Mycroft does not want to speak further because he really doesn't want to listen to his voice any more. He is still trying to understand why his brother is even trying, pretending to try, or whatever this is. Of everything going on in the last few days, his brother is probably the most confusing. Not that is surprising, even when they actually liked each other he found his brother confusing, why would he find him less confusing now that his brother hates him?

Just before they are done with dinner Miranda announces that dessert is nearly ready by popping her head in the dining room for a moment.

For a moment he debates whether he wants to sit there through dessert or not. Things have been quiet so far, but at the same time it feels wrong, awkward, off. He wants to know _why_. But he cannot bring himself to ask, not with sign language, aloud, or by writing it down.

Pushing his plate away, he pushes the thoughts away too. He is not going to think about that right now. His mind would just go in way too many circles.

He has just set his hands on the table to push away when Miranda comes back in with a large piece of mixed berry pie smothered in cool whip for him, and a much smaller piece for his brother.

"Here you are, you need more meat on your bones, so I have more in the kitchen for you," she tells him as she sets it down in front of him.

He blinks at her, nodding once slowly, a hesitant smile twitching the corners of his lips.

She beams at him happily, sets Mycroft's pie before him, and bustles out of the dining room.

"She's my cook but she likes you better," his brother mutters, despite the words, he can hear the attempt at humor though it falls flat considering he doesn't understand why his brother is trying and it really is not natural for the older man. "She made this for you since I would have preferred cake or cupcakes."

He can feel himself trembling as it becomes too much again. Standing, he grabs the plate and bolts, hearing his brother calling after him but he doesn't stop until he is in his room, door closed, and he is curled between the dresser and the end of his bed.

Why is everyone so loud? Can't they understand he wants silence? Quiet? Just to be in the same room without it feeling like he has done something wrong? Just to be accepted as is, without words? Is it really that hard?

He is startled out of his mind by Jim setting his violin by his feet.

Blinking rapidly, he doesn't understand why the agent did that, particularly when a moment later he withdraws from the room, closing the door behind him and leaving him to his own devices. Slowly he uncurls and reaches for the instrument, brows furrowed as he tries to work through the chaos rushing through his mind.

Setting the violin on his lap, he strums it gently, his focus narrowing on the way the strings move, the vibrations he can feel through his fingers, the low notes that it produces with each motion. It allows him to break past the chaos and the noise, to just find something that brings him comfort. As he unsteadily gets to his feet, his body exhausted from the emotional turmoil within his mind, he clamors up on his bed and curls around the instrument, fingers still lightly pulling at the stings.

His last thought before unconsciousness claims him is: how did his minder know to give him the violin?

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	8. Check Up (I)

June 15th, 2005  
Mycroft's POV  
He knows even before Sherlock bolts that something has gone wrong. What went wrong? He thought things were going better. It was the longest his brother has spent in his company in the last few years. More than that, he even smiled a few times. True each of the smiles was for the cook, but she is an excellent cook, and has always had a soft spot for him, so that was not overly surprising.

Perhaps he spoke too much. It was just so very odd to have there be silence where he is used to sounds. He cannot remember a single time in his life where his brother was quiet, yet now that seems to be Sherlock's primary setting and it rankles him. Part of him wants to grab his brother and just shake him until the fool snaps out of whatever is going on in his head. However he is moderately sure that would not do anything but make things worse between them. So he closes his eyes and takes a breath, reminding himself that he has an appointment to speak with Doctor Watson the following morning. Hopefully he will have more ideas as to what he can do to get his brother back now that they have spent several days together.

He is pleased when Mr. Moriarty takes the initiative to go check on his brother. He is even more pleased when the agent goes to check on him a little while later, reporting that he is sleeping. That's a good thing since he knows how hard it is for his brother to do so.

So he heads to his office, leaving the agent to his work while he sets to his own. He doesn't actually trust the younger man, but he excels at hiding what he is doing and erasing any evidence, so even if the agent does try to look for something it will not be there. That's where he spends most of his not, until the very early hours of the morning before finally sleeping for a few brief hours.

Come morning he is up and ready at his normal time even though he actually has an extra half an hour due to his appointment with Doctor Watson. That's alright it gives him extra time to consider what went wrong the previous night.

When he gets to the office, the receptionist greets him warmly, as she has every time she has seen him, using both sign and spoken language, out of habit from the way she does it absentmindedly.

He doesn't even have a chance to sit down before one of the nurses is calling him to the back.

Quietly, he follows her to the office, thanking her when they get there and before she nods, returning to her other duties.

-Good morning, Doctor Watson.- he greets the younger man.

-Hello Mr. Holmes,- the doctor replies as he stands for a moment.

-Thank you for taking the time to speak with me,- he comments, -I hope you have a few more suggestions for assisting with Sherlock.-

As they both settle into their seats, the doctor nods at him to continue.

-He seems pleased with his instruments and the lab I had installed in the basement, yet there was an,- he pauses as he considers what word he wants to use to describe the previous night, -episode last evening at dinner. One moment we were having a pudding and the next he is bolting to his room.-

When he is done, he relaxes into the chair, or at least that is the impression he gives.

-What were you doing during dinner?- the younger man inquires, before typing on his laptop, eyes still on him instead of the screen, waiting for his answer.

-My cook was excited to see him, I told her to calm down because she was overwhelming him. She did so immediately. I told him I had an appointment with you to see if there was anything else I could do of assistance. Miranda, my cook, gave him a paper and pen with a note telling him to write his favorite foods down so she can add them to the menu. I mentioned the fact you would have been an excellent agent if you could hear, which he seemed to agree with according to expression.- he lists off as he considers the previous night.

-Were you speaking aloud or with BSL?- the doctor inquires after taking finishing the notes he was taking as he spoke.

-Aloud.- he responds promptly.

The doctor frowns, looking at him thoughtfully for a long moment as if he is trying to decided what to say. Despite that, his expression is mostly neutral, making it difficult to get a read on what exactly he is thinking. He stays quiet, waiting to see what the doctor has to say to him.

Drumming his fingers on the table as he thinks, Doctor Watson eventually begins speaking, -Sherlock flinches at all noises from what I have seen. He is hyperaware of his surroundings, to the point where he never relaxes when there are people around. That causes his him unnecessary stress. It is also a factor in his continued mutism.-

He nods, not pleased to hear that, but confirming some of what he suspected.

After he nods, the younger man continues, this time with suggestions rather than observations. -I would suggest using BSL when speaking with him. Do not expect answers. Watch for nonverbal cues, from our brief meetings I know you already do that with me. Do the same with him. Have you replaced the companion already?-

-Yes. A young man name Jim Moriarty. He understands BSL and ASL, enjoys science, and comes highly recommended for his intelligence and ability to adapt.- he promptly answers, -So far it seems that Mr. Moriarty has had better luck than Miss Morel.-

Again the blonde drums his fingers on the table, eyes narrowing as he thinks of something. -Will I be meeting this assistant?- the doctor eventually inquires.

-He will be with him this evening. At this moment I am unaware whether I will be available to accompany him or not.- he replies seriously.

Nodding, the Doctor Watson makes several notes on his computer. –Very well. I will have Ella make an appointment for our next discussion. At this point I wish to speak with you at least once weekly to discuss your brother's progress. I will not tell you what we discuss, however I will give you suggestions on how to work with your brother. I will also listen to what his behavior is like when he is with you and the assistant so I may add it to his records and thus better assist him.-

It is his turn to nod as he agrees, -I understand and will make sure to schedule that time in as much as work allows. There are times I am called away unexpectedly for work.-

-Of course, I understand you are busy, however if you wish to help him, you have to be committed to doing so, and not just doing so when it is convenient. It is going to be an uphill battle. There will be times you want to give up because it seems there is no progress. There will be times you will want to scream at him, try and force a reaction, lose patience. It will be up to you to remember that is only going to make things worse and adapt as the situation changes, sometimes moving forward and sometimes moving backwards. From what little I have seen and spoken with your brother, he wants to speak, he wants to be back to normal, he wants to be accepted.- Everything is signed with a type of sharpness he has not seen too much of, it comes across as determination and seriousness rather than arrogance or anger.

He nods, -Of course.- He knew when he brought his brother into his home to recover that there would be some changes that are necessary. He is not sure why the doctor wishes to drive that point home, but he accepts the warnings and advice.

-Excellent. Do you have any other questions or concerns for me?- the younger man asks with a tilt of his head.

-No, I believe my concerns from last night have been answered. I will take what you said to heart, good day, Doctor Watson.- he answers, nodding one last time before standing to leave.

-I hope you have a pleasant day,- the doctor wishes him.

Leaving, he meets his assistant just outside the door, "I have your schedule and plans for the next four days. We may have to make a trip." She tells him seriously as they slide into the car.

"Doctor Watson has suggested sign language as the primary mode of communication for Sherlock, and after last night I agree. As such, whenever possible I will be using only sign language with him." He tells his assistant before switching to work, "Now tell me about the situation."

She bobs her head slightly and does just that, he will consider what to do with Sherlock further when he has a free moment.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	9. Another Day

June 15th, 2005  
John's POV  
The one day he does not actually have an appointment with Sherlock leaves him wondering how the younger man is doing between his other duties and patients. He knows that he has an appointment with Mycroft in the morning, and has another long evening appointment with Sherlock in the afternoon. He is also aware of making plans to spend some time with the younger man this weekend.

What to do? Actually, perhaps he should take Sherlock with him on his rounds to visit the homeless. Does he expect the homeless to open up to him? No, but he is quite sure that there are several people Sherlock would find interesting. The only problem might be the keeper that gets to stay with his patient in order to make sure he does nothing stupid. Hopefully this new minder is more intelligent than the last. He had wanted to smack that woman upside her head.

Well that is something he can speak to Mycroft about in the morning.

So he takes care of everything on his agenda, make sure to have a rather productive day, and locks up long after everyone is gone. There are advantages and disadvantages to the fact his home is a small flat above the clinic.

Giving a shake of his head, he heads upstairs and locks his front door behind him, making sure all of the alarms are on for the clinic. He is pretty certain that when his Scottish relatives gave him the building they had not expected him to turn it into a clinic for those with hearing and speaking problems, or to turn the attic part into a place to live. Still, it is his free and clear. As long as he pays his taxes every year, everything is fine, and he will eventually make enough money to move out and into an actual flat.

He had taken nearly all the money they had given him as a graduation present and sunk half into stocks, the other half he had sunk into the building. Getting everything up to code and then starting the process of making it deaf accessible. The broker dealing with the stocks for him had made him several amazing trades, and that had paid for the rest of the upgrades such as the lights on the doors, the computers that had excellent dictation programs, and the specialized phones that are technically landlines but convert spoken word to text and have different colored lights for different features. If there was anything that could make life easier for those who worked at the clinic or sought treatment there, it was acquired.

Making himself a cup of tea, he ruefully thinks about the fact he has the hardest time shutting off the work side of his mind when he is done for the night, which is the biggest problem with living above work.

It's time to shut down work for a bit. Maybe do a bit of reading or work on his book a little bit.

Grabbing his laptop, he works for a bit on the writing, currently he is in the editing stage. He snacks on little things as he types, things that don't require a lot of effort. It's a bit later than normal when he closes everything down and takes his night time shower before heading to bed.

In the morning, he is up at his usual time. That gives him a chance to make breakfast, exercise, and get a quick rinse off before heading into the office downstairs where Chun, the head nurse in charge of the day staff, is getting things ready.

-Good morning, Chun,- he greets the intelligent and affectionate woman, -Pleasant evening last night?-

-Oh yes,- she replies excitedly, -I had a date last night with Salome. It went wonderfully. We've agreed to another one.-

He smiles at her, -That's excellent.-

She nods, then changes the subject, -Your first appointment is already here, I think he arrived before we even opened officially.-

-Bring him back then,- he remarks, -Our newest resident will be here after lunch to begin his first day.-

She nods, -I will let the staff know. Will the newest resident be with one of the older ones?-

-For today just let them get to know the others, tomorrow I will see about assigning them,- He answers after considering the options.

-Got it,- she answers before nodding once more and leaving him at his office to fetch Mycroft Holmes.

A few moments later, she returns with the older man.

The next twenty-five minutes is spent with them discussing Sherlock, the episode as the elder brother refers to it, and ways to assist him in the future. Once the appointment is done, he updates his notes before preparing for his next appointment.

His day passes in a bit of a blur, and he makes sure to welcome the newest doctor in training to their mist, giving the younger man a quick tour and introducing him to the staff. Nathan is hard of hearing, rather than fully deaf, but was intrigued by the clinics concept. When the younger doctor had approached him about doing his residency there along with his time at the hospital, he had easily agreed, and asked Ella to make the arrangements. Of course he had interviewed the younger doctor twice.

After he is done with the newest doctor in training, he returns to his office to prepare for his next appointment, which is probably going to be a rough one. He is actually handing one of his cases involving a young man with hearing loss but who is not fully deaf over to Tangy, a rather diligent resident who has already applied to work here full time once she has completed her residency and graduated. He knows that this will probably not be the easiest transitions, particularly since Tony does not want to change doctors, however he had told the young man when he first came here that he does evaluations and assigns the doctors and residences accordingly, while only keeping a small number of patients himself.

The next hour is a bit insane. There are all of the expected reactions and more. Apparently he has a bigger problem with the fact his new doctor is a woman, than the fact that he has to change doctors. It gets loud according to the vibrations he can easily feel in his desk, and the fact Ella pops her head in to check on them. Still, they manage to work everything out and come to an agreement just before he ran out of time and his last appointment of the day was supposed to show up.

Good thing I am a head on paperwork, he thinks after bidding Toby goodbye and Tangy goodnight. That was so much harder than it had to be. Sighing, he rubs the back of his neck before his mind continues the thought process, I understand why he is scared to a point, after all it had been a female doctor who had screwed up originally, disregarded his multiple ear infections that lead to this point, but that does not mean all female doctors are like that. Well only time will tell.

The light on the door and the one on his desk alert him that Sherlock is here. Pressing the button to turn the alert off and let them know they can come in, he stands as he has every time, a warm smile of welcome curling his lips. Despite the fact they are not speaking, he does enjoy his time with the younger man. After all, having company who is not demanding non-stop attention can be a wonderful thing.

-Good afternoon Sherlock.- he greets the dark-haired genius, motioning to the chair for him to sit down. Turning his attention to Sophia, he queries –Tea please.-

-Of course, right away,- she agrees with a nod, closing the door behind herself as she leaves.

His companion takes his seat, head tilting to the side as he studies him the way he has every time.

The next few minutes are peaceful, he gets his computer files set up and ready while Sherlock takes the time to study him. When Sophia brings the tea, he makes it a point to thank her, and praises the younger man when he nods politely in her direction since it is the first willing interaction he has seen out of him. Following that the first hour of their visit is just as quiet as normal, he works on the paperwork and drinks tea. Occasionally he glances at the younger man to see if he wishes to speak, but he does not put any pressure on him to do so. They even share a rather peaceful and quiet dinner together, a repeat of what they had the last time.

-You don't make sense,- Sherlock eventually signs during one of his glances in the younger man's direction.

-Oh?- he replies, arching a brow at him questioningly and motioning for him to continue when he is comfortable.

Another hour passes before he finally does so, -You aren't trying to force me to communicate, to talk.

He smiles, understanding the confusion behind that statement, -Why would I? You'll speak when you're ready.-

-It doesn't make sense.- Sherlock repeats, annoyance making him frown and glare, brilliant eyes flashing in frustration.

Shrugging, he kindly replies with a question that he thinks will help him understand, -Would you have spoken or would you just have felt stress?-

More time passes, he doesn't actually pay attention to the count, merely keeps an eye out for when Sherlock is ready. He can see the quickness that the younger man is processing in the way his eyes flicker as considers what he knows versus what has been said.

-Stress,- Sherlock finally answers, biting his lower lip he continues, -Stress is all I feel when people try making me talk or talk to me.-

He nods slowly, recording the notes and giving the younger man some time before he poises his next question, -How much stress do you feel in here?-

Blinking at him in shock, Sherlock's frown turns to a scowl.

Again they spend time in silence as the younger man considers that question.

-No.- the younger man just about snaps with how hard he responds, confusion and anger seeming to be his two primary emotions currently.

A small, warm smile curves his lips as he nods in response. –That's good.- is all he states, returning to his quiet work and watching without pushing. They have made far more progress in a relatively short time than he expected. That means there will probably be a step back sooner than later. Still, progress is progress. There will always be times where there is a step forward and a few steps back, that's just part of it, no reason to be upset, better just to be prepared.

The rest of their visit is quiet, nothing else is said between them until just before nine pm, when he asks, -Would you like to join me on my rounds with the homeless this Saturday?-

Tilting his head, the younger man considers it for a minute before slowly nodding.

-Great! Now then, it is rather late.- he replies happily.

A single nod is Sherlock's response as he stands and heads towards the door, barely pausing long enough for him to rise before opening it up. That's alright, he understands perfectly well.

Quickly, he moves around his desk and follows him to the lobby where he discovers a slender man with dark eyes and darker hair, lips curved in a small smile. –Good evening Doctor Watson, I'm Jim Moriarty, Sherlock's assistant.-

-Good evening, Mr. Moriarty,- he greets the new assistant.

-Feel free to call me Jim,- the assistant offers with a smile, -Is it about time? Are any arrangements needed?-

-Jim,- he repeats with a nod, -Sherlock has indicated he would like to join me during my rounds with the homeless Saturday. I leave the office to begin at nine am and complete them by two pm. I'll provide lunch.-

Both of the dark-haired men nod.

-Got it, five minutes to nine Saturday morning, wear comfortable shoes.- Jim remarks with a flash of a smile.

-Yes.- he answers with a nod, -Have a good night Sherlock. Jim.-

-Goodnight.- Sherlock replies, startling him, but making him smile.

He watches as the two leave, eyes narrowing at their backs as he considers the new assistant. There is something off with him, though he is not exactly sure what it is. Just his instincts telling him that not all the screws are as tight as they should be.

Giving a shake of his head, he locks up the building before returning to his flat to relax for the night. It's been longer than he originally planned on, though that seems to be Sherlock's regular effect.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	10. New Job

Hello my lovely readers! Sorry this is a day late, I've been sick for a few weeks with a sinus & ear infection, I went to the doctors earlier this week and have been sleeping pretty close to none stop since from the antibiotics I am now on. On the plus side, I am feeling a lot better, so hopefully this upcoming week will go easier for me.

* * *

June 15th, 2005  
Jim's POV  
When the orders to report to Mr. Holmes PA came through, he was quite pleased, he had applied for the position when it came open the week before, but had not been one of the originally interviewed candidates. A low drum of excitement flares through his system, he wouldn't be going for the interview if he wasn't a valid candidate.

When he gets to the office, the door is standing open, so he wraps his knuckles on it twice before stepping in, "Miss A?" he queries.

"Close the door and take a seat Mr. Moriarty," a rather aesthetically beautiful woman directs him.

Silently, he does as directed and waits with an outwardly calm expression even though he is exceedingly excited.

"Why do you wish to move out of field work and into private work?" she inquires as she closes down the laptop and closes it.

"I do not wish to be an agent permanently. I desire to move up the ladder eventually. Also, if the younger Mr. Holmes is anything like the elder Mr. Holmes, he will be quite interesting to work with." He answers smoothly, probably best not to mention the fact he finds the elder Mr. Holmes attractive.

Her dark eyes study him for a long moment, "The hours will be long, there will be very little time for breaks, emotional outbursts will not be tolerated as they could cause greater problems, there is to be no physical harm to the younger Mr. Holmes, and part of that is making sure he does not harm himself." She informs him firmly, "Your file shows that you are highly intelligent, not quite as intelligent as our employer but higher than the vast majority of people, you are classified as a psychopath, though several of your evaluations classify you as a sociopath. Your loyalty is questionable at best."

He smiles, lips tilting as she lists off his most common traits. There is nothing wrong with being a psychopath. It serves him well with his duties. He's never felt something is lacking, despite his problematic empathy and highly skewed moral compass.

-Can you understand and reply in BSL?- she asks, eyes never leaving his face as she does so.

-Of course,- he replies with a smirk, -I take it the last person claimed to but didn't.-

-Something like that.- she answers.

He stays quiet as she glances at him thoughtfully.

"I think you will be the best fit of those I have interviewed." She finally remarks, "However if you screw up, you will not like the results."

She's threatening him and giving him the job? Sounds like something he would do. Has done. He had started his own web before he joined MI6, his life saved by the agent who was supposed to kill him. Now that web was used for jobs rather than criminal activity.

"You start in one hour. At this time, there is no timeline for how long this will last or the hours you will be working. Think of yourself as Sherlock's PA, with all duties included." She states, offering a folder to him.

He nods, still trying to keep the excitement from his expression, because it's probably not something he should be showing right now. The file ends up being on the younger Mr. Holmes. It details what led to the situation they are in, and the suggestions on how to assist Sherlock during his time not speaking. Absently nibbling on his lower lip, he considers the information, and which in his network would be able to get him more information and helpful hints for dealing with someone who has traumatic mutism.

"Dismissed, a car will be here and waiting in exactly sixty-one minutes." She informs him as she stands, a smartphone appearing in her hand. "Any questions will be answered then."

"Yes ma'am," he replies with a nod, standing and leaving with nothing else said.

Mindy, Alexia, and Jason would probably be the best for information. Tugging his phone out of his pocket as he returns to the small office he has in the lower part of the complex, he sends off a few messages. By the time he closes his door and boots his laptop up, there are three long and useful messages waiting for him.

Alexia gives him advice on ways to help through comfort, making sure to point out ways to help if the person suffering from the mutism is a tactile person or not. Mindy's advice centers around how to build someone who has dealt with trauma's confidence back up so they feel secure with themselves and their surroundings. Jason gives a list of other resources that could help, medically and not, plus activities that do not use one's voice.

Printing copies of each email off, he adds them to the file, and makes sure to grab his extra suit and the kit he keeps around for traveling job.

When he gets to the front door, he spots Miss Awaiting for him. Almost as soon as he reaches her side, one of the sleek cars pulls curbside for them to get in.

"Do you have any questions?" she inquires with a tilt of her head once they are encased in the car.

"Not so much questions as wishing to confirm a few things." He replies.

She nods, motioning for him to continue.

"I'm Sherlock's PA, primary task to make sure he does not hurt himself and that his environment does not cause him stress." He waits for her nod before continuing, "I'll be staying in a room at the Holmes' estate?"

"Yes, clothing and other supplies have been provided," she answers, then motions for him to continue.

"It is at my discretion whether to stay in the room at all times or give him space?" he inquires.

"At your discretion," she replies.

He nods, mind already whirling.

"Anything else?" she asks.

"No, if I form questions I will text you," he responds.

Nothing else is said on the ride to the flat. When they get there, he quietly follows her inside. She gives him a brief tour by telling him where everything is before they stop in a library.

"Mr. Holmes is checking on his brother now, you may take a seat or look around as you prefer," she tells him before settling on a sofa near the fireplace.

He decides to look at the books and see what sort of topics are around. Since one thing all three of his informants told him was be in the same room without speaking and focusing on something else, having books on hand would be useful.

When a tall teenager with wild hair and haunted eyes follows Mr. Holmes in almost timidly, he wonders what have brought him this low. In his time before MI6 he would have offered to take care of the problem in a creative method.

"Sherlock, this is Jim Moriarty, he is on loan to us from MI6," Miss A tells the disheveled young man as she rises from her spot on the sofa in front of the fireplace.

Those haunted eyes sweep over him a second again. He can just about feel the judgment and determination coming off of him.

-Hello,- he signs, -She indicated that you rarely sleep, don't communicate much, eat as little as possible, and bounce between activities depending on your energy levels.-

Sherlock nods in his direction before nodding at his brother, spinning and leaving the room. For a moment he considers following him, but now he has another question, and since he is certain Sherlock is returning to his room, which is his domain, he will stay and ask the question instead.

Once his charge has left, he turns to the other two, asking, "Why does he look deader than some of those in my network?"

Miss A is the first to answer, "We are unsure the exact cause, it started after he roomed with a young man named Victor."

"Hmmm," is all he says in response, all ready considering how to get rid of Victor.

"Feel free to look around the flat," Mr. Holmes tells him, "There is a cook named Miranda, and a maid named Shelly comes through though every other day."

He nods, eyes flickering over the older man as he considers him. Mycroft Holmes is definitely a good looking man, a little rounder around the middle but not so much so that he looks bad. Giving a small shake of his head, he pushes those thoughts away and decides to look around the flat a bit more. With a nod to the other two, he exits the library. First thing he goes looking for is his room. He's very pleased with what he finds. It's a decent suite with a full size bed, closet, dresser, desk, and attached bathroom.

He has just started looking around the kitchen when a heavy set woman comes bustling though one of the doors.

"Hello," she greets him happily, "You must be Mr. Sherlock's new assistant. Will you be eating with them or prefer a tray for your room?"

Smiling charmingly, he responds, "Could I eat in here?"

She blinks at him for a minute before replying with a chuckle, "If you want, there is a small table over in the corner there." Her hand motions to it absently. "Please go tell Mr. Sherlock that dinner is ready to be served."

He nods, turning and leaving the kitchen. It's a quick trip through the flat to Sherlock's room. The soft notes of a violin catch his attention and he spends several minutes just listening to the sounds of it before he lightly taps on the door to alert Sherlock to his presence. Instead of speaking, he waits for the younger man to turn towards him before signing his answer.

-Dinner is done, if you are interested,- he tells his charge.

He doesn't wait for Sherlock to answer. Instead he heads to the bathroom before heading to the kitchen. He knows that Miranda will say something if his charge does join the elder brother.

Dinner is a rather tasty meal, far better than he was expecting. He has just finished up and is considering whether to head to his room or the library for a bit when Melissa comes in the kitchen fretting. One glance over her tells him everything he needs to know. Quietly, he heads upstairs and to Sherlock's room where he finds the younger man huddling in the fetus position between the dresser and the end of his bed. Just as quietly, he fetches the violin and sets it near the younger man's feet before withdrawing from the room.

For several long moments he hovers outside the door, listening closely for the sounds of the strings being lightly stroked before retreating downstairs. The plan was to speak with Mycroft, instead he speaks with Melissa, getting a verbal account of what happened and deciding what needs to be done accordingly. Heading to his bedroom, he considers the file he has on the younger man, and the suggestions that his three gave him.

He ends up sleeping for a just over an hour before he is up and ready to go again.

After a quick shower and a change of suits, he checks on his charge, Sherlock is sleeping on his bed, curled around his violin, an occasional tremble and twitch betraying the fact his sleep is troubled though he makes no noise.

For a moment he considers singing some of the lullabies that he used to croon to Alexia on nights she'd have nightmares, but decides against it. They're not friends, and he has a feeling that would be considered over stepping his bounds.

Instead he heads downstairs, stopping in the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea before heading to Sherlock's lab in the basement to get a feel for what sort of things can be done in there. Perhaps he can get the younger man to do some experiments. As quietly as he entered the lab, he leaves it without actually touching anything more than the door, his mind whirling.

Now would be a good time to read the notes and file the rest of the way, he thinks as he checks on Sherlock one more time before heading to his room. Going through the file in full detail takes him several hours, and he carefully considers the advice he had been given for dealing with someone coping with traumatic mutism and selective mutism. Using the provided computer, he attempts to break into the doctors computer to see what sort of notes he has on Sherlock, only to discover it is a closed network and the only way he is going to be hacking it is from the building itself. Well that's inconvenient for him but kudos to the doctor.

How to deal with a teenager who has problems with everyone? One who's mind races non-stop from what he can tell much like his own? Well how did he deal with being a teen? Save a few other homeless kids, killed a few people, and got recruited by MI6, so that's probably not going to work.

Nothing in his record marks Sherlock as a sociopath or psychopath, though he claims to be a high functioning sociopath according to the councilor at the university. That's probably his way of dealing with being an outsider, because he isn't seeing a single friend or even acquaintance in these papers. From what he can tell, the only friend he has ever had is his elder brother, and he can see exactly when that relationship ended.

Setting the information aside, he tilts his head as he considers it, eyes staring at the far wall in the way Aaron used to tell him was very creepy. He's a full out psychopath, and well aware of the fact he is missing the purpose behind most emotions, yet he has more friends or at least acquaintances that he would assist in a pinch. Well then, maybe that's what his roll should be, rather than PA become his friend. At this point he is moderately certain he can't screw the boy up any worse than he already is.

Though he wants to meet this doctor too, just because he might be able to come to some sort of understanding, and they will be able to assist each other.

Now that he has an idea of what he needs to do, beyond the PA concept, he goes and checks on the younger man, finding him just on the edge of wakefulness. Humming to himself, he heads to the kitchen, not surprised to see the cook already working on something.

"Hi Miranda," he states in that sing-song voice he tends to use when he is bored and having to be patient about something.

"Good morning Mr. Moriarty," she replies with a small shake of her head.

"Jim," he corrects her quietly, "I prefer Jim." Rolling his shoulders, he continues, "Sherlock is waking up."

She nods, and motions to a small tray on the edge of the counter, "That one is for him. What would you like for breakfast?"

Picking the tray up with one hand and tucking it against his side, he snags a plump red apple with the other, "This is good thanks. Though I might come make another tea in a bit."

She nods and goes back to her cooking.

Humming once more he takes the tray upstairs to the younger man's room, and taps his knuckles lightly against the door. When he hears the light strum of the violin, he carefully opens it, slipping in the room to set the tray on the desk before signing, -Morning. You have an appointment with Doctor Watson at five pm.-

He doesn't get much more of a reaction than a slight flicker of eyes that let him know Sherlock saw what he said.

-I will be in the library if you want some company,- he states before withdrawing once more.

Using his phone, he gets a hold of a few of his other contacts, trying to come up with some ideas as to ways to occupy an overly intelligent teenager, also trying to find other ways to make him feel comfortable. He knows that his natural personality can be offsetting. Alexia has told him he gives a feeling of something being wrong when he holds still, and its one of those things he sometimes tries to correct, except for when he wants to be offsetting.

Four times he checks on the younger man, finding him playing the violin and later the harp in his bedroom. About forty minutes before it is time to go the younger man gets a shower and changes into one of the suits, making him look less like a lost waif and more like a serious student.

So Sherlock likes his doctor if he is willing to put effort into how he looks for seeing him. That's a good bit of information to tuck away.

The ride to the doctor's office is quiet, though his mind is going a thousand miles a minute as he continues to work out his plans and ideas, as he studies the parts of the city they pass. When they get there, he escorts the younger man into the building but takes a seat before even having to be told to. He had brought his phone with him to keep himself occupied, though he also people watches, one of his favorite past times. According to the file, the appointment between the doctor and his charge can last up to six hours.

The receptionist is polite and offers him a cup of tea once the rest of the waiting room clears out and he is the only on there. He smiles and thanks her for it, before going back to playing with his phone. In truth, he is studying where all the cameras are and the type of security that he can see, surprised to see that it is as good as it actually is. Most clinics and doctor's offices of this size do not put as much effort into their security as this one has. He manages to charm one of the nurses into visiting with him, with that high watt smile he sometimes uses, and by being polite. From her he learns that there is Doctor Watson who owns and runs the office, Doctor Lewis who helps with the trainees, five resident doctor-in-training, six nurses on day staff, eight on night staff, and three receptionists.

Apparently, the practice has taken off rather quickly because of the fact Doctor Watson is willing to review any case involving someone who is mute, deaf, or both. There is also talk of adding to the practice, buying one of the buildings on either side and getting a few more doctors on staff. Apparently they are filled to capacity but still keep getting new patients that Doctor Watson takes care off during the official off hours.

She surprises him by offering him part of the pizza that the staff had ordered for their lunch. While he is not the biggest fan of pizza, he accepts a slice on the condition that she eats one with him. It gives him a chance to ask more about the people that work here, and get a better feel for their personalities. By the time they are done eating and she bids him goodbye, he feels as if he has a pretty good handle on the people here. Able to easy hear what is between the lines and the things that folks don't like others knowing. Most these people are honest and hard working, there is one nurse with questionable morals, but as long as she's not causing him a problem, he's going to ignore her.

By the time nine pm rolls around and he hears the door to the office open, he is staring to get bored and plotting out various ways to cause mischief. Just because he hasn't caused mischief in a long while, doesn't mean he has forgotten how.

Standing and smiling slightly, he introduces himself when the pair come into the lobby, –Good evening Doctor Watson, I'm Jim Moriarty, Sherlock's assistant.-

-Good evening, Mr. Moriarty,- the doctor responds seriously, eyes flickering over him.

-Feel free to call me Jim,- he offers with a slightly bigger smile, -Is it about time? Are any arrangements needed?-

-Jim,- the doctor repeats with a nod, -Sherlock has indicated he would like to join me during my rounds with the homeless Saturday. I leave the office to begin at nine am and complete them by two pm. I'll provide lunch.-

He nods at the same time as Sherlock, his eyes sweeping over the doctor and reading his history and mannerisms in the same way he is certain Mycroft and Sherlock have in the past. This doctor is smarter than he lets most people see, and he has a fondness for Sherlock despite the fact they have only know each other for the last week. That's definitely something he can work with.

Flashing a more predatory smile, he responds, -Got it, five minutes to nine Saturday morning, wear comfortable shoes.-

The doctor bids them both goodnight, escorting them out of the building and smiling in pleasure when his charge bids the doctor goodbye as well. Now that's interesting. His charge has a fondness for the doctor. That's even more helpful.

The doctor's blue eyes give him one last glance, as if uncomfortable with him or seeing past the false mask that he wears most the time before slipping back into the building and locking up.

-Ready?- he inquires as the car pulls curb side.

Sherlock doesn't answer, not that he actually expected one.

Opening the door, he motions the teenager into the car, his mind adding the new facts that he has discovered to his plans. So far he has become Sherlock friend, introduce him to people who will appreciate his intelligence, and figure out ways to make the teenager more comfortable in his own skin. Apparently play matchmaker has been added to the mix. Or it will be if those two take too long flirting around with each other. Right now they have only known each other a week. For a good relationship to work they will need at least a year to form a strong bond, at least he knows that's true of himself, and Sherlock is a lot like him, only a little less kill people for being annoying.

Still, he has information to work with, that is always a good thing.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	11. Panic Before Breakfast

So its a bit short, but it didn't want to work with me when I tried adding to it, on the plus side, I got the outline for the next chapter started and should have it done by Friday for regular posting.

* * *

June 18th, 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
Saturday morning he is up and ready to go hours before he actually has to be. He spends most of that time alternating between suits he wants to wear. Some reason this feels different to him in the pit of his stomach than his previous meetings with the blonde doctor. Why does it feel different? It shouldn't but it does.

He is about ready to start pulling his hair out when he hears the soft rapt of Jim's knuckles against the door.

A moment later the door silently slides open, and the shorter man enters.

-I asked Miranda to prepare a high protein breakfast so you will not have to worry about eating later if you do not want to.- the agent tells him, waiting for him to be looking his way before signing.

He nods, a small frown playing across his lips. He wants to eat with John, he doesn't want to eat in public. Every time he has eaten in public he remembers all the rules and manners his mother drilled into him, which wouldn't be a problem, except she always seemed dissatisfied with how he acted at meal time, even when he thought he was doing everything right.

Damn it, why does this have to be so difficult? Maybe he could ask to eat somewhere private? That would require him speaking. No it wouldn't, he could sign. John's alright with his signing. Even seems to prefer it though he is sure he is well out of practice. He could always write a note and give it to the doctor before they leave the office. Yes, that's what he will do. But what if he loses the note? Then he is in the same situation. This isn't helping.

Sinking his fingers in his hair, he starts tugging on it roughly, when he feels a pair of firm hands carefully grabbing the back of his palms and getting him to release his hair.

Startled because he had forgotten that Jim was in the room, and how did he do that? He wonders, he stares at the agent.

Jim let's go of his hands, signing, -It's alright. I can cancel the outing if you'd like.-

She violently shakes his head no. That is the very last thing he wants to happen!

-Okay,- the agent agrees, -Don't cancel. Hmmm. You want to say something to the doctor?-

He blinks and nods yes slowly. Twice he tries to say it, and both times it feels like his throat closes off against him.

Silently snarl, he paces across the room, eyeing the pile of clothes left on his bed from trying to figure out what to wear. He is just going to screw this up, why is he even bothering? Nothing he ever does is right. Hasn't he learned that by now? He isn't the perfect son that his brother is, he is the perfect brother, he's nothing.

He freezes when he pivots to make the rotation in the other direction only to find Jim standing there with his violin in hand. Carefully the dark-haired agent offers it to him, dark topaz eyes watching him with understanding.

For a long moment he is not sure if he should accept it or not. Normally if he starts playing, he goes for hours, and they don't have that long before he is supposed to be meeting John.

Why does he mess everything up?

Biting his lower lip, he takes the violin, but he doesn't tuck it under his chin, instead he holds it close to his chest.

-Let's try something different, since nodding seems to be working, I'll ask yes or no questions and see if I can figure out the issue. Okay?- Jim inquires, dark eyes watching him carefully.

He nods once in agreement, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, before opening them back up and waiting to begin. Why does he have to make this so hard? He should be able to just say it, het he hasn't said a word since his last overdose.

-It's about Doctor Watson?-

Nods.

-It's about lunch?-

Nods.

-You do not want lunch with him.-

Shakes head.

So far this is easier than expected, he thinks as he waits for the next question. Why hadn't anyone else tried this when he had to respond? Though Mycroft probably would have been the only person he answered, not the point, they could have tried it, at least shown effort about his discomfort.

-You do want lunch with him.-

Nods.

-You do not want lunch in public.-

Nods.

Pauses for a moment, nods again.

-So I will tell the good doctor that you would rather eat in private, does that work?-

Nods.

-Great, breakfast?-

He thinks about it for a minute before nodding, setting his violin down on his bed, and heading to the kitchen. That went smoother than he thought it would, and it was easier to communicate when he wasn't expected to speak aloud. Hopefully he doesn't have another one of these episodes with John, that would be so very embarrassing.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	12. Walking and Talking

Cars that break down and then require extra parts to fix are annoying, sorry this is a day late, hope everyone

* * *

June 18th, 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
Breakfast is a quick affair. He probably doesn't eat as much as he should, but he really isn't all that hungry. There is still a nagging worry that he will do something wrong and ruin it.

Shaking his head, he heads to the door to wait for his companion and the car.

Less than a minute later Jim is beside him, a minute after that and they are walking out to the black car that pulled up.

-Things will be fine, I am sure,- Jim reassures him with a small smile on his expressive face.

Why is he so expressive? Not important.

The two of them climb into the car, heading to the clinic in silence.

He spends the ride studying his companion.

Jim is absolutely still. Even his chest seems to be barely moving as he sits staring straight ahead. What is off about this man? He is an agent for MI6.

He should find the file his brother probably has on the agent to see what type of personality type they classify Jim as. He also wants to know if his minder has any other notes of interest. Like the fact he is sure that the agent is somewhere on the antisocial scale, he is just not sure exactly where because Jim is an excellent mimic from what he can tell.

When the car pulls to a stop, he is out before the drive has even put it in park. Excitement strumming through his veins as he hopes he does nothing wrong. This is the first time he has left the house for a reason other than visiting the clinic and the first time in six months he has been somewhere other than a controlled environment. To say he is attempting to ignore the feeling of hope and dread would be a lie.

-Good morning, Doctor,- Jim greets John as soon as the blonde appears by the door.

-Good morning Sherlock, Mr. Moriarty,- John answers with a smile in his direction and nod to his minder.

He smiles and nods, happy that his doctor is alright with him not trying to speak.

-Call me Jim,- his keeps replies with a nod of his own. –Mr. Moriarty makes me think of work. I'd really rather this not be really like a work situation.-

Curious by that statement, he arches an eyebrow towards the black-haired agent.

Apparently Jim understood, because he replies, -Work is rarely fun or interesting, you are both, why would I want to think of you as boring?-

He blinks, because that is nothing like he expected his minder to say. There is nothing fun or interesting about him, if there was, he probably wouldn't be ignored so much.

-All right then,- John replies, not commenting on the rest, he then goes on to describe where they will be going and for how long each part of the trek should take. He also outlines where they will be stopping and why.

Afterwards, he nods in agreement, wondering what good he will be but happy to be outside.

-I have a challenge for you, if you're interested,- Jim signs, eyes watching him seriously.

He nods again, waiting to see what the challenge is.

-Pay attention to where we are in the city. When we return to the flat, mark on a map every road we were on with green and the best paths for getting to each primary stop with red.- his minder continues.

He has no interest in maps, why would he want to do something like that? He wonders, as he frowns slightly.

-Ready boys?- John asks with a look between them, a large satchel thrown over his shoulder and a backpack hanging low on his back.

He nods in agreement, still thinking about the challenge as they start walking. Is there any practical use in learning all the streets of the city? Several times he glances over at the doctor, as he continues to think. They had just stopped for the doctor to have a conversation with an old man that smells rather offensive when he realizes that it is something John probably does in order to take care of his patients and it's probably something Jim does for fun.

I'll do it, he decides, worse case I can just delete it later, and it is a way to think of something besides how useless I am.

So he starts paying attention to the streets, along with the people he sees. His eyes sweeping over them calmly as he reads everything he can about each one. Mind supplying the facts of each, little things like whether they are content with their home life, what type of job they have, and their current moods. It has been so long since he actively used his ability to read people that it is almost overwhelming and he ends up stopping to just stand there with his eyes closed while he tries to catch his breath.

He can't do this in front of John! He wants the doctor to like him, maybe even be his friend eventually, that doesn't happen if he is weak and pathetic.

The touch of a hand lightly against his arm draws him out of his mind to discover John standing directly in front of him, eyes caring as the doctor studies his face.

-It's alright,- the blonde comments, -Many people going through recovery of most types have times when they doubt themselves. There is nothing wrong with that.-

Biting his lower lip, he intentionally studies the doctor to see how serious he is or whether he is really just hiding his disgust. He is shocked when he realizes that John is being completely serious. Why is John being so understanding? It doesn't make sense to him. Yet he cannot deny it as he keeps looking for any of the things he expected.

-Would you like to continue or return to the clinic?- the blonde inquires calmly, giving him the choice.

-Continue,- he signs slowly after staring at John for several long minutes, mind whirling.

-Perfect, we have one more group before we stop for tea,- the doctor remarks, before asking, -Unless you would rather the tea first?-

-No.- is all he replies.

Nodding, the doctor turns back to the pavement, and continues walking.

His eyes flicker over to Jim, wondering what the other genius thinks of the fact he keeps having these damned moments. He is startled to see concern, or at least a good mimic of concern, in those dark brown eyes.

-Everything will be fine,- Jim states calmly. –Brilliance requires an audience to keep it from being too much. Otherwise the brilliant mind starts double guessing itself and that causes all sorts of annoying situations.-

Blinking, he thinks that makes sense. Jim is a genius like his brother and him, so of course he would understand one of the problems genius' have.

Grinning mischievously, Jim queries, -Would you like to know how I got my job?-

-I would,- John answers before he has a chance to, letting him know that the smaller man is keeping track of the conversation as they walk.

-When I was a kid, I was bullied a lot. So much so, that I was withdrawn and jumpy of everything. Despite that, I loved swimming, still do actually.- the agent pauses, a wistful smile curving his lips for a moment. –One day, the person who liked to bully me the most decided to dunk me under the water, nearly drowning in me in the process.- Jim's dark eyes seem to get dark, going almost black. –That was the last straw. Since the 'adults' and 'people in charge' refused to do anything because it was a star pupil, I decided to deal with him myself.-

-Why do I have a feeling your 'deal with him' was violent?- John remarks during a pause.

-Violent? Not so much. Sweet revenge? Yes.- The dark-haired man replies.

Impatient to know what Jim considered sweet revenge, he waves a hand in a hurry it up motion.

-I poisoned his water, then watched in pleasure as he drowned right during a swimming contest he would have won first prize in.- Jim states, tilting his head and shrugging slightly, he continues, -Of course that was only the beginning of my career. Over the next four years anyone I perceived as a bully ended up either in a lot of pain or dead.-

John stops, a small frown furling his lips, his brows drawn together as he considers the implications. –That doesn't sound like a good reason to be Sherlock's assistant.-

The agents lips quirk in a smile as he replies, -Normally I work for MI6, I applied for the position on purpose.- Tilting his head and rolling his shoulders, Jim continues from his original point, -So when I was seventeen I killed off a man who kept kidnapping street boys for reasons that annoyed me. Apparently, one of the street boys was actually an agent doing recon on him. That put me on MI5's sight. Another situation came up, and I killed someone MI5 wanted alive for a client.- the dark-haired man shrugs, -Well I became a target, and the man they sent was supposed to eliminate me. However after we had a few rough days of tag, the agent decided recruiting me was a better option.-

-Explain- he signs, wanting to know why Jim applied for the spot as his 'assistant'. From the sounds of it he was better suited to being an agent.

-I worked for MI5 for three years, keeping my contacts in the various places I had been, before MI6 found themselves in need of an agent for a situation and I got pulled over to fulfill the role.- Jim remarks, -I did so well that they decided to keep me. So for the last few years I have worked for MI6, however I have never been a fan of field work. Too many stupid people I want to get rid of just to help Darwin. So when I saw the position come open as a PA or assistant, I applied. I figured if you were even one tenth as smart as your annoying brother you would be interesting. I was very happy to find you are equally intelligent. It is a different type, but no less.-

He just shakes his head in disbelief. He has always been stupider. It's the reason he is in this situation. Just ask him mum or brother. Both would agree on that. Nothing he has ever done has been right. Otherwise he wouldn't be unwanted. He is quite sure that the 'helpfulness' his brother is currently showing is fake.

"Sherlock, believe me when I say that you are just as intelligent." Jim states aloud, voice full of conviction and soft hints of an Irish drawl. It takes him a moment to realize this is actually the first time he has heard the agent speak. All their communication up to now has been non-verbal.

The small frown is back as John glances between him and his minder. –In no way are you stupid.- the doctor comments, -You are dealing with trauma. I am guessing more than is in your file. Considering what is in your file, I would say you are doing perfectly well. Many intelligent people have a hard time recovering from trauma because their mind plays far too many tricks on them. I believe that is what is happening here. We have only known each other a short while, but I am quite certain you are highly intelligent.-

Slowly he nods, not sure he believes either of them but really wanting to. Just once in his life he wants someone to think of him as something other than an extra or a foolish child. He had thought he had that with the man he had started a relationship with before it had all come crashing down. This will probably come to a painful end to but he still wants to believe.

His attention is drawn out of his mind as the doctor turns his focus to his minder.

\- As for you Jim, I don't care how intelligent or deadly you are, if you harm him, I'll give you a lesson in why doctors make very bad enemies.- John firmly signs.

The agent surprises him by beaming at the smaller man, -That's fine doctor. I would expect nothing less.-

-Good, now shall we continue? We are less than ten minutes away from where we stop for tea.- the doctor replies.

His lips twitch in a small smile, curious how he ended up getting these two in his life. Of all the doctors his brother could have found, he is quite sure there are no others like John. As for minders, if he has to have one, at least the one he has is interesting.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	13. Challenge

June 18th, 2005  
Jim's POV  
He was very happy when Sherlock demanded an explanation. It is not much, but it was the first communication that involved words from the younger man. For some reason it sends a thrill of accomplishment through him, even though he really hadn't done anything. Should he have explained what he did and how he became an agent? Probably not. That didn't stop him however. Despite the fact they had only known each other a few days, he has already discovered a fondness for the young genius.

It is with that fondness in mind that he hopes Sherlock will be able to come into his own. After all, Sherlock is not the first genius he has seen brought low by family and situations, the others happened to end up dead, or so broken they had a hard time making it day to day. So he will do whatever he must to encourage the younger man, to help him get past his trauma.

-Psychopath,- he remarks as they stop a few minutes later while the doctor deals with a few more homeless people.

-What?- the younger man asks in confusion.

-You wanted to know if I was normal or not. I am a psychopath.- he replies.

Sherlock blinks at him in shock, as if surprised that he admitted something most people would keep private.

-I'm an excellent mimic, few people realize there is something off, but there you have it. You noticed within the first few hours despite the fact your mind keeps trying to play tricks on you,- he remarks calmly, one eye watching the doctor as he speaks with a very dirty person with a bad cough.

When the doctor is done, they continue moving and he is startled by the fact they stop at a pizza place for tea time.

Motioning them inside the building, the blonde glances between them, lips curving in a smile and breaking out in a low chuckle. -The owner was one of my first patients, he insists I stop by during my rounds or he will come track me down to give me tea.-

His eyes sweep over the smaller man, finding all the details not mentioned and smiling slightly like a cat in the cream. This doctor is probably going to be great for his charge because he seems to be a walking, breathing contradiction.

As they move through the room, a lot of people greet the blonde with a nod and smile, some even give limited sign that John replies to smoothly, movements and actions familiar as if he has done this plenty of times but he knows just from studying John that he really hasn't. The doctor is just that friendly and open with those he considers under his care but keeps his private life separate. Completely separate actually.

Hmmmm. Well that could be an issue with getting them together. No matter. Step one is a functioning Sherlock who is comfortable in his skin. Whether that includes verbal communication or not is yet to be seen. Something tells him the younger man is like him, able to go days without saying a word but when he wants someone to talk to, he wants that person to actually listen to him. The situation that his ward is currently in makes him quite certain the problem is simple: the younger man lacks the ego and self-worth due to years of being ignored or not good enough.

Tilting his head, he smoothes his facial expression out as he wonders why he feels a connection to someone who should be a job. Possibly because a small part of him used to want someone to do that for him, had things gone differently he would have either become a criminal mastermind or dead at this point.

Internally shaking his head, he returns to the situation they are in, lips quirking in a playful smirk as his charge narrows his eyes.

-I'm behaving,- he comments just as playfully, enjoying the fact the teenager is engaged even a little.

Really, this shouldn't be too hard, he thinks as he settles into a booth, back against the wall, eyes sweeping the room as the doctor and his charge sit chairs on the other side. Who puts booths and chairs together? It's a rather odd combo. Of course this entire place is a bit . . . American, he decides as he takes in the décor and people with more detail than his original glance.

-Doctor John!- a tall balding man, once a soldier, injured in combat and sent home. Stubborn, a nurse, had worked for the doctor for a time but decided he wanted a change in careers after losing most of his hearing. Married to a fellow military nurse, no wait, she's more than that but he doesn't care. They met at the clinic.

-Hello Bill,- John greets the tall man, -This is Sherlock and Jim.-

Jade green eyes turn to them, glancing over both with practiced ease of someone from that sort of background. –Friends I hope?-

Smiling slightly, the doctor nods in agreement, -That is the hope.-

-Perfect, I'll bring a pot of tea and the fixings, pick something to eat,- Bill states, leaving before they have a chance to say anything else.

Turning to Sherlock, he signs, -Another challenge for you, if you wish to try.-

Defiance flares for a moment before the teenager nods and jerks a hand at him to continue.

-Try to remember as many details about everyone we encounter at the stops. When we return to the house I will randomly write down either a name, situation, or description and you can write out or sign the answers.- he states, trying to think of things that will challenge the younger man and allow him to focus on something other than his emotions.

Biting his lower lip, Sherlock ponders the challenge for the time it takes for Bill to return with a tray full of everything needed for tea. –Agreed.-

-Perfect,- he smirks, -game on.-

-Have you decided what you want?- Bill asks, glancing between them.

Almost immediately he sees Sherlock duck his head as if embarrassed about something, an action that is not lost on either medical man.

-How about today's house special?- John suggests, glancing between them to see if that's alright.

He shrugs carelessly, -I'm not picky.-

-Sherlock?- the blonde gently signs, head down and eyes lower as if to be as unintrusive as possible.

When the teenager's eyes flutter as if he wants to bolt but is not sure what to do, he is quite pleased to see Bill sign, -How about I give you a few minutes to sip the tea?- not actually waiting for an answer before he leaves. Though a note pad and pen are now sitting on the table, apparently the bald man knows a little sleight of hand since he barely saw him move towards the table.

-It's alright Sherlock, just breath with me,- the doctor encourages, taking slow and measured breathes.

He stays quiet, letting the doctor work his effect on the younger genius, watching the way Sherlock latches on and tries to focus even as his mind races. That's actually understandable as John has a very welcoming sort of feel, like he is willing to give anyone a chance but not to cross him.

While Sherlock is focusing on John's breathing, the doctor absentmindedly making each of them teas and setting them down. By the time the doctor is done, his charge is a lot calmer, a bit amused, curious, and just a bit hesitant.

 _The special is all right._ Sherlock writes on the paper, head still down as he studies them without looking directly at them.

-Great!- John comments, lifting a hand and waving the bald man over.

They place their order, well John does, visiting with the ex soldier and nurse for a few minutes while Sherlock merely keeps his head down and keeps watching.

-Interesting soldier,- he remarks after a bit.

-Yes, determined, too.- John replies, the three of them falling into a comfortable quiet.

Part of him wants to talk to see if he can get Sherlock interested. He doesn't however because he decides to follow the doctor's guidance and the doctor is just sitting their quietly, hands lightly cupping his tea.

It's actually a rather novel experience, and he decides that he might just learn something from this as well. He has an excellent memory but cannot think of a single time where just sitting silently was considered an acceptable option.

-Probably because you cause mischief.- John states out of the blue, a mischievous expression in his eyes. –Considering what you have already stated about yourself and I have no reason to disbelieve, well, you quiet probably scares people.-

He blinks in disbelief, startled that John had understood where his thoughts went.

-Most hearing people never think to just sit in acceptable silence.- the doctor offers.

He nods, thinking about that and understanding it. So he doesn't break the quiet, doesn't start talking and instead just spends the time considering his work and those he has relationships with.

When the food is brought out, he slowly rolls his head as he studies the tray. There is a little bit of everything it seems, like a massive sampler platter. There are three small very cheesy pizzas, bread sticks, cheese bread, cheese sticks, three different types of sauce with the chicken wings, a small selection of vegetables and dips, mushroom puffs, onion rings, and the last is steamed cauliflower and cheese dip.

-I hope you enjoy, just wave if you need anything else.- Bill comments happily, surprising him with how much emotion the ex soldier puts into his body language.

The meal I spent in the same sort of quiet, his never ending mind listens to every word and sound around them. Bill had surprised him by pulling down what he had originally assumed was a decoration was actually a privacy curtain. All these ordinary people living ordinary lives. He sees the good in them, the bad, the liars and cheats, the hope and love, what they have done wrong or right, and wonders why they keep living. They're so boring. Yet they live.

He muses over these details as he eats a mushroom puff.

-A challenge for you Jim,- the doctor comments, gray-blue eyes watching him seriously.

-I'm listening,- he answers, what sort of challenge does the doctor have for him?

-You have challenged Sherlock to remember the roads and people. I challenge you to find the reason one person that I will randomly ask you about lives. What is their purpose and motivation, the reason they live even when it is not something you understand.- the doctor states.

He blinks, rolling his shoulders and tipping his head, as he considers it. "Agreed." He responds, hands moving in agreement.

Beside him, he sees his charge give him a curious look, eyes flashing as he tries to understand the challenge and changing when he gets it. Something new enters the younger genius' eyes, something speculative, not something he quite understands.

As a psychopath, he does not understand the emotions the way others feel them, he can mimic and on the very rare occasions he bonds with someone feel them, but they are not something natural to him. This challenge because John is not asking for the logic, but for the emotion.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	14. Overwhelmed

Hi my lovely readers! I have back tracked a bit to make a few changes to chapters two to thirteen, the change being a date being added at the top of each chapter for what day the chapter starts on.

 **Warning:** Panic, self-doubt, and a bit of self-hate.

* * *

June 18th, 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
He is startled by Jim's blatant description of what he is. Even more surprised by the fact John seems ready to defend him, even against someone so obviously dangerous. He knows just by watching how Jim moves and speaks he is not lying, and yet John is willing to stand up to him.

He spends a lot of the walk considering that, his mind only barely paying attention to his surroundings, just enough to fulfill Jim's challenge.

It confuses him and touches him in a way he has a hard time explaining. Not that he is sure he really wants to.

A million miles a second his mind flies, analyzing each and every word and sentence, probably over thinking knowing him. It's one of his biggest problems, over thinking and reading too much into situations and people.

Just outside of a small restaurant John chuckles softly, and he feels entranced. A spark of heat bolts through his body at this first noise he has heard out of the doctor, almost embarrassing him at the way he feels. He never felt that way with his friend. Never wondered how to make him do it again. Why does he feel that way now? It's wrong, it has to be, because he wants it, and he knows he's wrong. Thankfully his face doesn't give it away or if it does, his companions don't remark on it.

When they get to the restaurant, he discovers it is actually a pizza parlor. He almost expects to be stuck out in the open, so he is surprised when after their meal is brought to them a privacy curtain is dropped. Blink in shock, a small smile covers his lips, because they are in private which makes him feel better. Logically, he knows there are people on the other side, but those people cannot see him.

Despite that, he is careful as he eats, wanting to make sure he doesn't embarrass John in case anyone should come by.

The food is better than he expects, though he doesn't taste too much of it because he is too busy being worried about everything and everyone, in particular John and what he thinks.

So when John challenges Jim, he is a bit startled. He is even more startled when the agent answers aloud. So far Jim has barely spoken around him, for which he has been grateful, and that's a feeling he doesn't want to consider right now. Particularly considering the fact he is grateful to a psychopath who just happens to be his minder. Something about that seems wrong, he just can't tell what. It takes him a few minutes to work out what the challenge is and why it is one.

When he does work out what the challenge is, he can feel his eyes widen in shock. How does John expect Jim to understand the emotional reasoning when he can't feel them or only feels a really limited version of them? That doesn't make sense. Why would Jim accept a challenge like that?

Of course, nearly as soon as he thinks it, he gets it. It's because it is a challenge. His minder accepted because it is not something he can easily do, it is something that will take effort, something his mind can easily comprehend. Oh. Well that explains why he accepted it.

Why is he so slow? It should have been so simple to understand. It's so simple.

A hand on his elbow draws him out of his mind, causing him to blush in embarrassment.

-Your mind is trying to play tricks on you.- Jim tells him seriously.

He blinks in confusion, trying to understand, but again feeling like he is stupid and missing the obvious.

-It's alright Sherlock,- John states calmly, lightly pulling his hand off his elbow, causing him to feel the sudden loss as if it is so much more.

Blinking again, he focuses on the doctor, trying to understand. He must have done something embarrassing.

-You got a pensive look on your face,- John comments, -I think it's because I challenged Jim. What I cannot figure out is whether you want a challenge from me, or whether your annoyed it took you a few moments to understand what his challenge is.-

Blushing, he stares at the table, watching the doctor from the corner of his eye to make sure he doesn't miss anything but not saying anything. He's upset John. He hadn't wanted to upset John. Damn it, why does nothing he do or think ever come out right?

Closing his eyes, he focuses on just breathing, he can breathe at least. When he is done getting his breathing straight, he slowly opens his eyes and glances at the blonde man beside him.

As every other time they have been together, the doctor is waiting for him to be comfortable, not pushing him to speak. Actually, the host hasn't been around much now that he thinks about it, but he pushes that aside to focus on John. He should answer the not-question.

-I'm too slow,- he signs eventually, looking down almost as soon as he is done so he cannot see the agreement in the doctor's eyes.

"Bull shit," Jim remarks, making him jerk his head up in shock. –Your mind might be playing tricks on you, but you are definitely not slow. A slow person is boring. You are not boring.-

His doctor scowls at the agent for a moment before focusing on him. John's expression is calm, serious, and open as he speaks, -You are recovering. It's a slow process. There will be times that your mind feels sluggish, as if you can't think because it's too slow. There will be times that your mind will race, as if you can't slow or stop thinking because it is too fast. That's alright, it's part of the healing process.-

Slowly he nods in understanding, not sure he actually understands but thinking he might, just a little.

The rest of the meal goes smoothly, and he realizes that he is full not long after. He's eaten more willingly since meeting John than he has in the last six months. That's another thing to think about later.

While his companions finish eating, he chews on his bottom lip, trying to decide what to do next. Should he ask if they can go back to the office? Does he want to go back to the office? Should he try to continue the route? It's been very informational so far. Not anything like he was expecting when John had said he does rounds with the homeless. How did John start this? Why did John start this? Most people don't care what happens to the homeless. At least that's what he noticed when he was in uni. There were times he would hide from Mycroft and his minions just by pretending to be homeless and they would pass on by him, never noticing it was him. He never actually became friendly with any of them though, because they tended to annoy him, each one for different reasoning.

He knows the meal is done when the curtain is raised and he can suddenly see all the other people again.

For an instant he feels exposed but that feeling soon fades as his eyes dart around the room and he realizes no one is paying attention to him. Isn't that his life in a nutshell.

Except, his eyes turn back to his companions, that's not quite true anymore. Both John and Jim pay attention to him. Both of them praise him when they think he has done something right and both reassure him when they notice him worrying. Hmmm. Something else to think about. He can understand John's motivation, sort of, but not Jim's.

Giving a small shake of his head, he blinks a few times at the pair, realizing they are discussing the merits of the fork verse a spoon for soup. What does that have to do with anything?

-Really?- he signs, voice closing on him when he tries to say it aloud.

A playful smile curves the doctor's lips, -Really.-

Rolling his eyes, he almost misses Jim's pleased smile.

-Are you ready?- John inquires with a tilt of his head.

He nods in agreement, standing up and wanting to stretch but not sure if he should or not.

-Go for it,- Jim tells him, -those chairs do not look like they are made for tall folks and you're taller than the shrimp of a doctor beside you.-

-You don't have that much on me, thank you, I could still biff you with ease.- John retorts, but a small smile curves his lips.

Does his doctor like Jim? John can't like Jim! He can't explain it, but the idea of the doctor liking his minder sits uneasily in his stomach, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

-Breath Sherlock,- John coaches slowly, -Take deep breathes, there you go,- the blonde reassures him as he steadies his breathing out.

Why would he feel that way about either? He wonders, deciding to add it to the list of things to think about later.

-Shall we continue or return to the office?- John asks him, eyes on him only.

-Continue,- he answers after a pause to think about it.

-Okay then, the next part is the long part. Then we stop for lunch, followed by the last leg of it.- the doctor tells him with a smile.

-Wait,- he signs, a bit confused, -Wasn't this lunch?-

Shaking his head no, the blonde replies, -Nope, this was tea time snacks, lunch is a little later and a bit bigger.-

He just stares, a bit dumbfounded. How much food does the doctor eat regularly? How does he stay in shape with it being so much?

-Believe me, it'll be burned off,- John comments as he waves Bill over. –We're off, how much for the food?-

-You know I won't accept your money, now scat, more people to father-hen.- the ex-soldier answers with a warm smile. –It was nice meeting you Sherlock, Jim,- he signs before nodding and wandering off without actually giving them a chance to answer.

John just shakes his head and motions to the door, pauses, and asks –Need the loo? It's through there,- he motions opposite of the door.

He's about to answer no, when he decides he better try just because he has had more food lately that then normally would and doesn't want to risk needing to go when they are moving about. Besides, this place seems clean and honest, it should be safe.

After a quick trip to the loo, they are off, starting on the next stretch of the circuit. He finds his nerves seem to be a lot more frayed, and he feels like every person they come in contact with is making it worse, but he doesn't want to say anything because he is also enjoying himself. He doesn't know how far they are from the next planned stop, 'lunch', when the panic attack nearly brings him to his knees as a couple having a domestic is the piece that sends him over the edge.

The loud noises, screaming and shouting, angry voices and harsh words each feel like needles pressing into his skull. It hurts so much. It's too much. His eye close tightly and his hands come up to cover his ears as he dusks his head, entire body shaking with the effort to stay upright. His chest hurts and feels like someone has a vice squeezing him, making it hard to breath.

A familiar hand at his elbow has him jerking away blindly as he tries to say something, anything, but he can't make his throat work. It feels like someone is pouring acid down it. That hand comes back, gentle, soft, guiding him though he doesn't know where.

Cool air suddenly surrounds him, and the soft clicking sound of the door seals out the noise.

It takes him a few minutes before he is able to breathe a bit better. Slowly, he releases his ears, skin burning brightly as he realizes how much of an embarrassment he must be.

He doesn't expect John to be with him when he opens his eyes. He doesn't expect Jim to understand. Yet as he cracks his eyes open, John is sitting across from him, next to his brother's PA. A reassuring smile curves the blonde's lips as their eyes meet. Turning his head, he finds Jim beside him, humming softly, some sort of lullaby, he thinks, it's almost too quiet to hear.

-Better?- John asks lightly.

He just nods, embarrassed about how pathetic he must seem.

-It's alright. I was worried it might be a bit much for you.- the doctor tells him. –You did wonderfully, I am very happy with your progress.-

His brow furls as he considers that statement. What progress? He freaked out in the middle of the street. His brother had to send a car for them. That's not progress.

-Yes it is,- Jim signs, -You went far longer than either of us expect. You were communicative, engaged, interested. That was great.-

What? He's confused. How did he do good? He had panic attack in the street. He didn't manage to talk when he tried to. He didn't understand the challenge all that fast. He was slow practically the entire day. His body aches and he's tired though the other two seem perfectly fine. He doesn't understand.

-Doctor Watson, I am to drop you off at the clinic if you desire?- Anna signs, hands flickering for a moment and eyes leaving her phone which is currently on her lap.

-Yes please.- the doctor answers. Turning to his minder, John comments, -Make sure he gets enough rest and fluids.-

-Yes,- Jim replies with a nod.

-Good.- the doctor's attention switches back to him, -I believe there is an opening Tuesday if you'd like?-

He nods slowly, surprised John still wants to see him after today.

-Great, have one of these two give a call to my secretary Monday morning to schedule it.- the blonde suggests with a smile.

He nods again as the car comes to a stop.

When had they started moving? He really is slow toady.

-Until then, I hope you have a good weekend Sherlock.- John tells him with a honest expression.

When the car door opens the doctor signs farewell to the other two in the car, and gets out of the car, heading into the clinic.

Nothing else is said or signed as the three of them return to his brother's flat. Even without being asked he heads directly to his room, striping off his clothes and crawling under the blankets in nothing but his pants. He has a lot to think about, but right now he just feels exhausted. Maybe a small nap is in order.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	15. Psychopath, Sociopath, & Eavesdropping

My week of writing was not as successful as I hoped, but I still got a decent amount done, hope everyone enjoys

* * *

June 18th, 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
Curled up in his bed, he tries to block all the feelings and sounds out, the overwhelming grief and pain and panic and fear. The knowledge that nothing he does will ever be good enough because he is not good enough. Why is he still alive when he gets so much wrong? Nobody wants him around.

Wait, not true, John seems to want him around, even asked if he wanted to meet on Tuesday. Jim too, he thinks, though that's not one he gets. The doctor thinks of him as a patient, maybe even beginning to think of him as a friend. The agent he doesn't get. Psychopaths don't make friends, do they? He'll have to ask the only psychopath he actually knows.

Rolling out of bed, he stretches a bit. Rolling his shoulders and arching his back, twisting around until he feels the popping straight down his spine.

Closing his eyes, he considers what he wants to do. When he opens them, he glances at his clock to see how long he slept for.

Only half hour, yet he feels like he slept a lot longer.

Getting dressed in a pair of old jeans and t-shirt, he leaves the room, not even bothering to put his shoes on.

He is wandering through the flat when he hears the almost raised voices in Mycroft's study.

Curiosity is something he used to be full of, and as he hears Jim's sing-song tone, the one he automatically realizes means something is off with the psycho. He follows it, wanting to know what the problem is.

"I would suggest you not finish that line of questioning, Mycroft Holmes, because you will not like the answer," Jim manages to snarl but still retain a sing-song tone.

"Remember who you are speaking with," his brother nearly snarls back, making him blink in shock. When was the last time he can remember losing his composure?

He doesn't have to be seeing the agents face to know that his lips are curved in a smirk, it's all there in his tone. "I remember, but perhaps you should take the same advice Iceman. I'm not one of your minions, and you are definitely not the person I am loyal too."

Tilting his head, he wonders who it is Jim is loyal too. He's quite certain it's not him, they haven't known each other nearly long enough for the psychopath to have developed a bond with him. It's not John, he hasn't known him that long either. Probably not Mycroft's Anna, she owes her loyalty to his brother, and her job, but he's moderately certain that she is a sociopath. So who is it? Who could inspire loyalty in someone who lacks or has extremely stunted emotions and ability to bond?

"Are you threatening me James Moriarty?" his brother's voice grows menacing, softer, almost too quiet for him to hear without moving closer, but he doesn't know if he wants to move closer or not, his brother's office door isn't shut, they probably expected him to be out for a while longer.

"Please, why I would I bother? You are not my boss, at least in the traditional sense, officially I still work for MI6, putting me firmly under M's domain, and we both know she is not a fan of you. If we discount her, then my loyalty is to Pike. He doesn't care one way or another about you, but I can promise he'd have a problem with your treatment of your brother." There is a pause, during which he sneaks just a little closer. "Sherlock reminds me of him, a less confident, nearly broken version, but still of Pike. I plan to watch as he heals from all the damage your blatant disregard has caused, because he'll be brilliant, probably even outshine you when he does so."

"I can replace you 21." His brother threatens, and he blinks again because twenty-one? If he belongs to MI6 shouldn't the number be lower? Last he knew the double-oh's section rarely went over fifteen active specialized agents, and the rest were assigned letter-number combinations.

"Try me," Jim replies blandly, the sing-song voice lessening and almost getting down into the lower pitch. "Just because I wish to leave the active field because leg work is bor-ring, doesn't mean I fail at what I do. Also, possibly unrelated, at least in my head, just because I want in your pants doesn't mean I am going to allow you to cause my charge more problems."

There is silence for several long moments. He can almost picture his brother's expression and actually thinks about actually letting them know he is there when Jim starts speaking again.

"You're biggest mistake is trying to emulate a sociopath when you so clearly have emotions Iceman. Instead of owning up to them and using them to your advantage, you cut everyone off in your life. A choice that nearly cost you your brother's life and has probably cost you his affection and trust." The agent snorts, disdain filling the sound, "Why? To try to become the Iceman, congratulations, that was definitely not a thought out plan."

"Do you think you're any better than me wildcard?" his brother snaps.

Harsh laughter fills the air as Jim retorts, "Pike gave me that title, and I own it. It's what I did as a criminal and what I do as an agent." He hears the chairs move, "Psychopaths are born. We're naturally disconnected from the regular emotions, primarily empathy and remorse. Some psychopaths are made through extreme brain trauma. Sociopaths are made. Often times by neglect, abuse, being bullied, not connecting with anyone, and being an outcaste. Most sociopaths are highly intelligent, some even genius. A lot of them are suicidal, at least until the point where killing people because a way to feel something, anything. Think of how you have treated your brother. I barely have to look at him to know how close he is to the tipping point. Now, I am going to track that lovely cook down for food, and then figure out how much of this conversation your brother's actually heard."

A moment later, Jim appears in the door, dark eyes sweeping over him before he nods once, signing, -After you have had time to process, feel free to ask me whatever questions you want.-

He nods slowly, still working his mind over everything heard. Quietly, he retreats to his room without bothering to say anything to his brother or his minder. He gets the feeling that Jim would prefer to be a friend, or plans on trying to become friends. It makes him curious who Jasper is and how the two of them met. Just another thing he wish he knew.

Stretching out on his bed, he stares at the ceiling as his mind spins at a thousand thoughts per second. He is quickly working his way through everything he knows about Jim, Mycroft, himself, their family, looking back at his life, trying to see why the psychopath says he is nearly a sociopath but not quite. During his short time in uni, he had figured he was a high functioning sociopath, because he didn't seem to react to people the way others do and lacked the bonds. Maybe he missed something.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	16. Confusion of Memories and Thoughts

Hi folks! I am apologizing for the fact this is a week and a day late! I thought I had posted it here, but apparently not, so here it is!

* * *

June 18th, 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
Growing up he only had one friend and that was his brother, until suddenly his brother was gone. Part of him understood that his brother was away at school, but surely they would still be friends? Only that ended up not being the truth of the matter, instead his brother cut him off, left him adrift. He did everything he could think of, anything to make Mycroft want to be around him again, to care. Yet nothing worked.

When he was thirteen Mycroft told him he was too emotional and to grow up, no one liked brats who wore their hearts on their sleeve and bothered everyone. So he tried to stop. He looked up methods of mediation and control, trying and failing to emulate his brother. Maybe if he succeed Mycroft would care about him again.

Instead all it did was start him on a downwards spiral of pain, sadness, longing, and fear. Each and every attempt made him hate himself more than the last until he hit a point where he hated himself as much as he hated everyone else.

When he turned fourteen he started intentionally pushing his limits in hopes of harming himself and maybe not feeling like he was worthless. After all, he was often complimented on his intelligence but everything else was either ignored or treated as wrong.

He can still recall with perfect clarity the time Aunt Maeve and her slimy husband Richard had come to visit. He had hated them on sight, seeing all the little secrets they tried so hard to hide like the fact they were planning on getting a divorce and both of them were having affairs. At dinner he had been stuck beside Richard, who kept staring at him in the most awkward way, making his skin crawl.

So he had disarmed the situation the only way he knew how, "You're not interested in young boys, only young girls. For the last six months you've been having an affair with one of your students."

His uncle's face had turned a rather interesting combination of purple and red as he sputtered for several minutes before managing to spit out, "What would a piece of trash like you know? No one cares about you! You have no friends! You have no accomplishment! You're nothing!" Rising to his feet he nearly snarled, "Come on Maeve, we don't have to sit here and take this!"

A minute later they were leaving and both his parents were glaring at him.

"Elbow's off the table, use the right fork," his mum snapped, something she had said so many times before that he barely even noticed.

"You need to learn to filter yourself Sherlock," his dad chided, and the words that followed hurt far worse than his mum's nastiness. "You shouldn't make up stories about people."

"I didn't!" he replied hotly, "He really is sleeping with one of his students."

"Your uncle's a married man in his thirties, why would he sleep with one of his teenage students? That's just foolishness," his dad responded firmly, "Stop telling tales."

Three weeks later they received a letter from Aunt Maeve, she was divorcing Uncle Richard, and Uncle Richard was up on charges for sleeping with three of his students, all of them sixteen, the last just barely.

His parents had never apologized for implying he was a liar.

The following week he had started music lessons again. He had some as a child but had stopped after breaking a grand piano. This time, he had a different teacher, one who had patience for the music, if not him and he quickly fell in love with music.

It was the only time he got positive attention. Even then, it was only for the music, any time he wanted to talk about something else, anything else, he was told to stop being a bother and to be grateful for his talent.

Music came to be something he both loved and hated as well.

Shaking his head, he tries to force his mind away from those thoughts, onto other topics he needs to think about, like what did Jim mean he's not a sociopath? He has to be one! He doesn't have empathy, or at least it is really skewed. He's never felt remorse for his actions, which has lead to him feeling bad about not feeling bad when parents, teachers, caregivers, anyone and everyone else yelled at, chided, or otherwise told him over and over again how bad he is being. His own brother had a problem with caring about him, so it must be him. After all, Mycroft is the smarter and better suited brother. Right? He was the golden child, everything he did was praised and held up before him as a goal to reach. Not that he ever actually did.

So, if he's not a sociopath, what is he?

He rolls from his back to his side, tucking his head in the crook of his elbow and closing his eyes tightly.

Whatever he is, it's something no one wants to be around. Except, that's not exactly true. John seems to like being around him. It's even sincere. There has been nothing false in his behavior yet. Even odder the fact John seems to be willing to defend him. What would his life have been like had he had someone who cared about him like that when he was younger?

He can still remember the bullies that would shove him for being different, scream and laugh and taunt him with the word freak, make him feel wrong just for being. He can remember the way his parents would tell him it's part of life, distracted and not actually caring. Even the time he ended up with a broken arm, he got blamed when it wasn't his fault. Back then he wanted someone who actually cared more than anything else.

Mycroft had visited from school for two weeks, took one look at his arm in the cast, rolled his eyes and walked away. Every time he tried to talk to his brother, his brother ignored him until he would either give up or their parents would drag him away.

That had hurt more than he wanted to admit, then or now.

What had he done wrong that his one friend no longer cared about him or wanted to be around him? He can't think of anything he did. At least nothing in particular. He asked after his brother's classes and teachers and if he had made any new friends. He asked about the topics his brother was studying. He told his brother what he was currently working on, tried not to mention any of the bullies or the many ways he felt like shit on a regular bases.

Yet Mycroft still didn't want to be around him.

Only, his mind hesitates for a moment, Jim implied Mycroft was at fault, not him. That it was his brother who was closer to being a sociopath, or mimicking one, than him. Was Jim right? Could he be right? Did that mean all those years he thought he had done something wrong he hadn't? It was Mycroft, not him?

It's confusing.

A part of him wants to confront his brother. Wants to know if Jim is right. Wants to know if he went through years of feeling as if he must be doing something wrong when he wasn't. He wants to know why Mycroft abandoned him to feel that way. Wants to know anything, everything. Part of him wants to scream at his brother. He wants to hate Mycroft for making him hurt so much.

First though, before that could even close to happen, he had to be expressing himself with more than just his instruments.

Getting up, he paces around his room for a few minutes before grabbing his violin to play. Hours are spent with him going through all his favorites, both those by others and those of his own design.

Would John enjoy his violin music? He wonders, then stops, staring at the wall as he remembers that John is deaf. But music is played at the clinic, can John feel it? Does he like music? Is there a particular type he likes more than another? Are any of his instruments the type that John would be able to enjoy? He wants to be able to share this, but how can he share something if he doesn't even know if John can hear or feel it?

Tossing his violin on his bed, he grabs his hair and tugs on the disheveled curls hard. It's not enough to pull them out but it is enough to sting.

John, now there is a topic that confuses him more than anything.

When he was around the person he thought of as a friend he never got the warm fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach. Not once during the six months. When Victor started pressuring him for sex, he had refused, not interested in the person he thought was his friend. As much as he would like to deny it, he can still hear Victor's parting words ringing through his mind.

"You're nothing but a worthless, freak of a cold fish! No one really wants you! You're just a tool!" the dark-haired man had screamed as he walked away, drawing the attention of many students. Embarrassment had streaked through him, making him feel worse though he hadn't shown any of it on the surface.

The next night he had bought as much as he could from Victor's dealer. He had considered using it all at once, but instead ended up stashing most of it. Over the next few months he had done anything he had to on campus to get more money to give the dealer, and to get more. It is just enough to keep him slow and dazed, he still passes his classes and still gets treated like garbage, but it's easier to cope with.

For his eighteenth birthday, his brother sent a car to pick him up. None of his birthdays since Mycroft left for uni had been good. His parents had actually forgot him for two of them, and his mum had spent all of his fifteenth birthday lecturing him on how to have proper table manners. So he still doesn't know why he expected that one to be different. Maybe because it was the first time his brother was going to spend the evening with him voluntarily since Mycroft left for uni.

That was probably his biggest mistake. Thinking Mycroft wanted to be around him.

His dad wished him happy birthday and many happy returns, gave him a card with a small amount of money and a certificate for a new suit. That was the only good thing that happened.

His mum must have been in a mood, because everything he did either earned him disapproving looks or flat out lectures. According to her, he ate his food wrong, didn't sit straight enough, why couldn't he be more like his brother? When she wasn't criticizing him, she was praising his brother. Each word like a knife cutting through him.

The worst was Mycroft. His elder brother sat there so serious and stern, nothing familiar about his posture. Where in the past Mycroft would have defended him, not tonight, this time his brother just sat there sipping at his drink, and occasionally nodding in agreement. When he had finally gotten the nerve up to ask why, Mycroft had cut him off mid sentence, telling him that their mother was right about his behavior, he should try to be a better son.

Three hours after that, he had collected every single stash he owed, and retreated to an old church he had discovered near campus and thought was beautiful. There he had used every bit of the drugs. With each injection he had felt lighter, happier, and sure that he was making the right choice. No one was going to miss him, at least this way he could go out with a smile.

Tugging on his hair a bit harder, he pulls himself out of that memory, not wanting to think about what lead him to spending six months in a rehab. The reason he met John. The reason his brother was pretending to care. The reason he now has a minder.

Spinning around, he grabs the violin off his bed and goes back to playing. It seems to be the most relaxing thing for him to do.

The challenges, he realizes several hours later, his stomach lightly rumbling in hunger. They never did the challenges. Should he still try to remember the information?

Glancing about his room, he notices the laptop in the corner of the desk that he had previously ignored. He could type up all the information on the people he had noticed and what streets they had taken or could take in the future to go to the same places. His focus narrows to completing the task at hand, completely ignoring the fact he is hungry. He can eat when he's done, as a reward for accomplishing what he is doing. Then he can think some more on the confusing topic that is John.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	17. Worry and Anger

June 18th, 2005  
Mycroft's POV  
He had not thought his brother would be able to handle being around a large group of people and it appeared that he was right. As a car is sent to fetch his brother and his companions, he seethes because this could have and should have been avoided!

This is Moriarty's fault. He should have told Anna to pick someone other than the Wildcard as his brother's assistant.

As soon as his brother's doctor is delivered to the clinic, the car brings them back to the flat. He is waiting by the door, but Sherlock doesn't even notice him as he drifts past, eyes heavy lidded, and exhaustion just about pouring off of him.

"My office, now," he orders Moriarty, turning on his heel and heading in that direction automatically.

When there is silence behind him, he thinks that the agent ignored his order so it takes every bit of control not to jump out of his skin when he turns and Moriarty is within touching distance.

The smirk that curves the agents lips tells him the younger man knows.

Keeping a blank face, he heads to his desk settling behind it, and not giving Moriarty permission to sit down. The agent sits down anyways, just about sprawling in one of his armchairs, and turning it face his desk.

A lazy hand is waved in his direction, and he has a sudden flash of understanding as to why the directors have issues with him.

"You're rather insolent for someone who made a mistake." He remarks blandly.

Chuckling, the agent responds, "If I had made one, I'd agree, but alas, no mistakes were made."

"What do you call today?" he grits out, furious and wondering why he is so mad when he rarely lets emotions rule him.

"A success," Moriarty replies smoothly, one hand coming up to rest against the side of his jaw as he smirks.

"A success?" He repeats, baffled because supposedly James Moriarty, Agent Wildcard or 0021 depending on unit, is a genius but how intelligent can he be if he thinks today's mess is a success.

"Yep," the agent replies, popping the 'p' sound.

Several minutes pass with him staring at the younger man, glaring is probably the correct word to describe his expression. The only other person who annoys him this much his brother. Actually, that's not entirely true, he is happy he rarely has to deal with the agent he once recruited who in turn recruited the one before him. That boy is rather frustrating as well, far too smart and sassy for his own good, with an annoying lack of fear.

Moriarty just smirks at him, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

"You find this amusing?" He asks, keeping his voice bland once more and controlling his temper.

"Sherlock having a panic attack? No. You seeing today as a failure or mistake and glaring at me? Yes." The agent responds with a lazy shrug.

Several minutes pass with them simply staring at each other. Most people break when his expression growing bland and calculating. Not this arrogant agent though, some reason, possible they psychopathy keep the Wildcard from being concerned.

"Please keep glaring," Moriarty remarks, waving the hand on his lap lazily again, "It's turning me on."

He blinks owlishly for a moment, completely thrown because no one says things like that to him.

"What makes you think you have the right to make decisions regarding my brother's wellbeing and health?" he demands quietly, keeping his voice even.

"I do because it's what I was selected for. To ensure his safety and assist him as he heals," anger flashes through the agent's eyes, his voice shifting from smooth to sing-song as he responds.

He opens his mouth to refute that statement only to be interrupted by the dark-haired man softly hissing, still in the sing-song tone, "I would suggest you not finish that line of questioning, Mycroft Holmes, because you will not like the answer."

"Remember who you are speaking with," he retorts angrily, slightly shocked anyone who knows who he is and what he does would dare speak with him in that tone. Not even the directors take that tone with him, and they are his equals.

A smirk curves the agents lips, a dangerous gleam filling the younger man's eyes as he suggests, "I remember but perhaps you should take the same advice Iceman. I'm not one of your minions. You are definitely not the person I am loyal too."

The next several minutes are quiet as he glares at the younger man once more. How dare this arrogant agent speak to him like this? Who does he think he is? He can have him deported to the coldest depths of hell if he wants. He could have striped, beaten, and left for dead if he wanted. Torture him until the agent broke. Only, his mind recalls the file, considering the agent's younger years, that probably wouldn't work and then he would have to deal with the directors wanting to know why and the Wildcard's partner.

Internally shaking his head, his voice grows harsh as he demands, "Are you threatening me James Moriarty?"

Rolling his eyes, Moriarty waves a lazy hand in his direction as he queries, "Please, why I would I bother?" Sitting up and shrugging, the agent continues, "You are not my boss, at least in the traditional sense. Officially I still work for MI6, putting me firmly under M's domain, and we both know she is not a fan of you. If we discount her, then my loyalty is to Pike. He doesn't care one way or another about you, but I can promise he'd have a problem with your treatment of your brother." Pausing, the agent leans forward a bit in his chair, bracing his arms on his legs as he tilts his head thoughtfully. "Sherlock reminds me of him, a less confident, nearly broken version, but still of Pike. I plan to watch as he heals from all the damage your blatant disregard has caused, because he'll be brilliant, probably even outshine you when he does so."

"I can replace you 21." He threatens, voice getting a bit harder as he says it, some would even call it mencing.

"Try me," the agent retorts blandly, the sing-song voice lessening and almost getting down into the lower pitch. "Just because I wish to leave the active field because leg work is bor-ring, doesn't mean I fail at what I do." His smirk becomes mischievous, "Also, possibly unrelated, at least in my head, just because I want in your pants doesn't mean I am going to allow you to cause my charge more problems."

Silence falls over the room as he stares at the agent in pure disbelief. What the hell did he just say? His mind demands even as he automatically repeats it in his head several times and still having a hard time grasping the sentence and its meaning. The agent might not be the best looking, but he is striking and many would consider him attractive. Attractive people do not say to that to him. Never have, never will, it has to be a bluff.

Moriarty meanwhile has returned to his relaxed, sprawled position as he watches with interest.

Twice he opens his mouth to say something, both times he snaps it shut just as quickly. How is he supposed to respond? Particularly when Moriarty appears serious? Though he has noticed how good of a mimic the agent is, so it could all be fake.

Before he has a chance to say anything, the agent starts speaking again, "You're biggest mistake is trying to emulate a sociopath when you so clearly have emotions Iceman." Moving from a sprawled positioning to standing up in a breath, the agent continues, "Instead of owning up to them and using them to your advantage, you cut everyone off in your life. A choice that nearly cost you your brother's life and has probably cost you his affection and trust." The agent snorts, disdain filling the sound, "Why? To try to become the Iceman, congratulations, that was definitely not a thought out plan."

"Do you think you're any better than me Wildcard?" he snaps in anger, hating the fact someone else is saying what he has thought numerous times since finding his brother nearly dead of an overdose the last time.

Harsh laughter fills the air as Moriarty retorts, "Pike gave me that title, and I own it. It's what I did as a consulting criminal and what I do as an agent." The agent moves his chair back to its original spot as he continues to speak, his tone bored as if giving a lecture to someone who is not quite that intelligent, "Psychopaths are born. We're naturally disconnected from the regular emotions, primarily empathy and remorse. Some psychopaths are made through extreme brain trauma. Sociopaths are made. Often times by neglect, abuse, being bullied, not connecting with anyone, and being an outcast. Most sociopaths are highly intelligent, some even genius. A lot of them are suicidal, at least until the point where killing people because a way to feel something, anything." Moriarty locks eyes with him, as his tone gets quietly furious, "Think of how you have treated your brother. I barely have to look at him to know how close he is to the tipping point. Now, I am going to track that lovely cook down for food, and then figure out how much of this conversation your brother's actually heard."

He doesn't have a chance to answer before the agent walks off, determination in his stride as he does so. Every movement is measured and controlled, silent and steady.

Placing his elbows on the desk, he cups his forehead between his palms. As much as he would like to say Moriarty was wrong, he really wasn't. How had he missed the sound of his brother approaching? He was probably too busy being furious about the very bald way the agent was speaking to him. No one takes that tone with him. Ever. Yet that cocky agent had, and without a bit of remorse.

Of course he lacked remorse, his mind grumbles, he is a psychopath. Apparently proud to be one, or at least open about it. Or maybe he is being open about it because Moriarty knows he could easily find out. Doesn't matter. The part that matters is the part where the agent is damningly right.

Perhaps he needs to speak with the doctor about what else he can do to be of assistance. After all, he is definitely partly to blame. Too bad it took Sherlock nearly dying before he realized exactly how much damage his cutting communication with his brother had caused.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	18. Nightmare

**WARNINGS** : Child Abuse and Alcohol abuse

* * *

June 18th, 2005  
John's POV  
After he is dropped off at the clinic, he stands just inside the door for a moment as he watches the car pull off.

Well, he thinks, that went better than expected. He had honestly expected Sherlock to need to stop far sooner than he did. According to Jim, the overload was caused by a couple arguing. Sometimes he is very thankful that he cannot hear, because he can easily understand how that could happen. Before he lost his hearing completely, he had hated listening to his parents fight every time his father got drunk. It was during one of those drunk periods that he lost what was left of his hearing.

Shaking his head and sighing, he turns from the door, locking everything behind him as he heads deeper into the building.

Well then, he ponders as he makes his way through the clinic, I should take some notes on all of my patients. Both the homeless ones and Sherlock, in order to keep their files up-to-date.

Upon reaching his office, he slips in, quickly moving to turn his computer on and get to work. Hours fly by, and it's not until he starts feeling a pinch in his lower back from staying still too long that he realizes exactly how much time has passed. Closing everything up, he heads upstairs to his flat. There he takes a long and relaxing shower before making himself a light dinner.

As he settles at the small table in his kitchen, he wonders if Sherlock would like the simple fruit, veggies, and chicken mixed together and spread over rice. Perhaps he could make the younger man dinner some time. Of course, if he does, he will probably have to make dinner for Sherlock's minder as well, that's not a problem he has gotten along with him so far.

Sighing, he turns his mind away from that for a few minutes, deciding he will spend the evening researching new medical improvements in his fields.

Hours are spent at his computer, diligently studying everything he can find and taking notes on the things he thinks would be useful or he wants to look further into. He does this at least twice a month, giving his lists to the head secretary to look into and find more information on. Since she can hear, she often does the correspondence with the hearing world, and often works as a translator for him when he is out of the office for training sessions since many are not set up for the ease of a deaf person, even a lot of the ones that are about how to help deaf people.

When he is finally done, he stretches, taking his time to work all the kinks out of his body from sitting still so long.

Glancing at the clock, he decides to make himself a late night snack before taking a shower and going to bed. If he can't sleep, which he thinks will probably be a problem since he is wide awake, he'll do some of the stretches and exercises.

His snack is nothing more than two cups of tea, vegetables and dip, and a few biscuits.

The shower following gets him to relax enough to go to bed and fall asleep within minutes of laying down.

The nightmare strikes not long after he sinks into his dream state.

Daddy was drinking again, he had started early, before mum even got home and was getting angrier and angrier with every drink he had. Every time his daddy saw him, items were thrown in his direction, most barely missing him.

When his mum got off work and home, he had watched in horror as she was thrown repeatedly against whatever object was closest.

In his nightmares, his mum isn't the only one, and he wakes up gasping as he feels the pain of being tossed against a wall like a doll, his bones breaking and pain exploding through him.

Sitting up, he rubs one hand against his face tiredly, glancing at the clock. It's only five am, he should still be asleep. However he knows he will not go back to sleep any time soon. Since it's sunday he decides to spend the day relaxing and letting his mind drift from topic to topic. He ends up spending far more time then he wants thinking about the past and the nightmare, but he knows if he doesn't deal with it now it will just make things harder for him later, so that's what he does.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	19. Reaching Out

June 21, 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
He spends the time between when he went with John and Jim to deal with the homeless and when he is supposed to see John against staying in his room for the most part. The only time he has left his room is to eat meals in the kitchen because he is avoiding eating with Mycroft. Right now he doesn't want to be made to feel like trash over the fact he tried to get outside of his comfort zone.

Tuesday he takes care after showering, making sure that he looks his best and is ready to go when Jim comes to tell him that it's time to go to the clinic. Hopefully John hasn't changed his mind about wanting to see him. That would be horrible.

-Ready?- the agent queries as he appears in the door.

He nods, his nerves spiking as he turns to head towards the door. A moment of panic has him stopping just before he steps through it, freezing in place as every muscle in his body grows rigid. What if John is only seeing him because he has to?

"Sherlock," the soft voice of the smaller genius brushes against his mind, drawing his focus. -John likes seeing you. He probably was busy for the last two days which is why we are going to see him today. I am certain he is looking forward to seeing you.-

He blinks, nodding slowly, tongue flicking out to trace his dry lips. Jim's a genius like he is, he'd know whether John wants to see him or not.

-Better?- the dark-haired agent inquires.

He nods again, hand flickering for a moment, -Yes,- briefly pausing, -Thank you.-

Smiling, Jim replies, -You don't need to thank me, you would have figured it out yourself as soon as we get there, but I figured you'd prefer to be calm when we get there.-

He nods again, a small smile curved his lips as he heads through the house and out to the car. The ride to the clinic is quiet, Jim is the only person in the back of the car with him. When they get there, it is close to closing for the clinic and the nurse takes him directly back, waving his companion over to one of the chairs in the waiting room.

-Good afternoon, Sherlock.- John greets him as he enters the office, a warm and open smile spread across his face.

-Hello John,- he replies, biting his lip nervously.

-I'm happy you were able to make it,- the blonde remarks, -I was thinking yesterday and wanted to ask if you would like to eat dinner with me one of these nights and I can make dinner.-

He spends several moments standing in the door blinking at the smaller man as he processes that question. Finally he nods slowly, -Yes.-

-Perfect! We'll make arrangements when we are done this evening. I have requested that Chinese be delivered at six pm.- the doctor remarks as he settles back into his seat and waits for him to do the same.

He settles into the chair, glancing about the room to see if there have been any changes. Three, his mind provides, there are three things different. John has a new keyboard, there is a new book, and there is a new pen holder.

For a while they sit in companionable silence as John works and he just relaxes. Enjoying the peace and quiet, that he can just be without feeling like he has to speak or fill the silence with noise.

Eventually he gets the nerve together to ask, -Do you like music?-

The doctor finishes typing the sentence he is on, before replying, -I do. One of my favorite past-times is feeling music.-

Again he licks his lips before stealing himself to ask, -Ever listen to harps, violins, flutes, or cellos?-

Tilting his head, the blonde thinks about it for a bit. -I've felt violin and cello music before, they can be quite nice.-

Again there is quiet for several minutes while he considers that before finally commenting, -I play both. Can I…- he trails off, eyes staring off into the distance. -Would you mind if…- again he trails off. -May I play for you?-

John smiles at him encouragingly, waiting for him to complete his thought and not trying to rush him.

-I'd enjoy that,- the doctor responds, still smiling warmly.

Conversation stops again, peaceful silence and stillness filling the air around them.

He never actually finished thinking about why John has the effect he has, so maybe he should consider that? No, not a good idea to do while the doctor is sitting right before him. The doctor might not have the same type of intelligence as him, Mycroft, or Jim but he is still intelligent. Often surprising him with insight and praise.

Their peace is broken by one of the nurses bringing in a tray full of food before retreating. They share a relaxing meal.

-Here,- he suddenly states, pulling the papers he had compiled out of his challenges and thrusting them at John.

The doctor accepts them, straightening them out and looking them over. -These are very detailed. Have you given a set to Jim yet?-

Blinking, he remembers that the agent is the one who challenged him. -Not yet,- he slowly answers.

-I can give them to him if you'd like?- John offers reassuringly.

He shakes his head slightly, -No, I'll do it.-

A crooked, pleased smile curves the doctor's lips, -You've made a lot of progress in the week we've been seeing each other.-

Blinking, he stares at the blonde in shock. It's only been a week? It feels like it's been so much longer. How has it only been a week? It probably feels longer because they have spent hours together each time they visit rather than just one or two the way his rehab doctor did. But then, his rehab doctor kept trying to force him to talk, John hasn't. The only reason he's felt comfortable enough to talk using sign language is the fact no one is trying to force him. At least, not now. Mycroft tried during that dreadful dinner but hasn't since. Thankfully sounds have been kept to a minimum, the only exception to that was when they had went to speak with John's homeless people and that couple who argued, which wasn't John or Jim's fault.

Blinking hard, he realizes that nearly half an hour has passed. That's alright though, John doesn't seem to mind and is working on something else.

-John?- he queries hesitantly.

-Yes, Sherlock?- the doctor replies.

-Why do you do that for the homeless?- he asks slowly, taking several minutes to ask something that should take less than one.

A thoughtful expression fills the blonde's eyes, -Someone needs to. There are a lot of reasons a homeless person might not seek medical aid.-

He nods, trying to think of those reasons and lightly drumming his fingers on the desk between them. When the doctor passes him a note pad and pen, he chuckles.

-Why don't you try to think of all the reasons a homeless person might not seek medical attention?- John suggests, -You can write them down.-

Nodding, he stares at the paper for a little bit before starting to write. He takes his time, making sure that everything is neat and orderly so John can easily read his answers.

While he does that, the doctor works on his computer, typing up something though he doesn't know what.

-Can the reasons also be ones that people with homes might have?- he asks absently, barely noticing until he goes to pick his pen back up, a blush coloring his face.

-Of course,- John answers, -any reason you can think of can be added.-

Returning to his paper, he adds the other reasons that he can think of, taking his time to consider each before writing it down. He ends up with eight answers to the question, with several more that he is tentatively writing down as well since they could be considered part of the first eight or separate.

Pushing the paper towards John, he sets the pen down and waits to see what the doctor's reaction will be.

-That's really good Sherlock,- the blonde praises, -You have nice handwriting.-

He blushes again, ducking his head and smiling shyly.

-You're doing really good at understanding people's motives and reasoning,- the doctor tells him. -There are people who are older and do that for a living who don't even manage as well as you've been doing.- Smiling warmly, John states, -That's great, and proves that your mind is just playing tricks on you when start feeling like you're slow. You're brilliant.-

Keeping his head down, his shy smile grows just a little, filling him with pleasure and warmth. From what he can see, John is completely serious and means every word that he says.

Maybe, he thinks, just maybe I am better than I think. Both John and Jim seem to think so, they can't both be wrong.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	20. New Person

June 20, 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
Faster than he wants, time runs out and he knows that they need to separate for the evening. He doesn't want to leave, he wants to stay here where he feels like he is wanted and not pressured.

Still, come nine pm, he stands up, stretching slightly before waiting for John to stand as well.

-I've really enjoyed our visit, you're doing a lot better than you think.- The doctor tells him with a pleased smile. -You've done really well. Far faster than expected. Don't be surprised if you have bad days. It happens to everyone, particularly people who are really smart.-

He's not sure if he really believes the praise, but everything in John seems honest and open. He's always been pretty good at reading a situation and a person with just a look, even though he is slow at times. Since meeting his doctor, there hasn't been anything in his behavior show that he lied in some way or is being anything more than truthful.

The two of them make their way through the clinic to the front room where Jim is waiting.

He stops in shock when he spots a second person waiting with the agent, a slender young man with dark-hair, dark-eyes, large glasses, and relaxed posture. His eyes skim over the new person, studying him as he tries to get a good read on him and fails. Why is he failing? Is this one of those episodes both John and Jim have mentioned he will have where his brain tricks him?

-Sherlock, John, Jasper,- his minder introduces, motioning to each of them in turn.

Immediately, he realizes that this Jasper must be the person the agent referred to as Pike the previous Saturday when speaking to his brother. That means this young man has to be an agent too, but he looks too young. Only, as his eyes flicker over the slightly taller agent, he notices things he might not have otherwise looked for. Callouses on both his hands that proclaims he knows how to use weapons, other callouses that show his computer use, the lenses being for show rather than need.

-Hello Sherlock, John,- the second agent signs in BSL, -I decided to check in with my troublesome friend since he causes mischief when left on his own too long.-

-I can believe that,- John smoothly replies, lips quirking in a small smirk.

-I'm completely innocent,- Jim denies, the mischief in his eyes giving away the fact he is joking.

He snorts, ducking his head a bit and smiling, part of him wanting to comment but not being able to pull it off.

-I should get to work, there are a few people who seem to lack the sense given to an insane person on how to avoid dying, being injury, or getting lost.- Jasper-Pike remarks with a nod, -It's been a pleasure meeting you, we'll have to have lunch sometime. I think it would be interesting.-

Before anyone has a chance to respond, the slender man is turning and leaving, quiet and quickly.

-Interesting friend, I'd lay odds he causes as much havoc as you, only he doesn't present like a psychopath or sociopath the way you do.- His doctor comments, eyeing Jim, lips quirked in a crooked smile.

-Because I'm the psychopath and he's more often than not my consciousness.- The agent replies with a lazy shrug, -We've been friends for years.-

-How does that work?- he asks absently, staring after the agent who just left.

Grinning, Jim replies, -He was the undercover agent I met two years prior to being recruited, and he was the agent sent to eliminate me who recruited me instead. It's not uncommon for us to be teamed up, and we can cause massive havoc when we work together, but he tends to keep me from the most destructive parts of my personality unless, of course, it's needed.-

Chewing his lip, he nods, and thinks about it some more. How did they become friends? He wonders, tilting his head and thinking about it, why did they become friends after meeting like that?

-How about we discuss it tomorrow morning?- Jim suggests, before tugging a small notepad out of his pocket and offering it to John. -Since we never finished the challenges, I wrote down everything I could think of. I'll let you decide how right or wrong I was.-

Chuckling soft, the noise a low husky huff, John accepts the small notepad. -Agreed. Tomorrow afternoon?-

-We'll be here,- Jim agrees with a glance at him, waiting for his nod of agreement.

-Until then, goodnight Sherlock, Jim.- the doctor remarks, walking them to the door and bidding them goodnight.

-Good night, John,- he comments with a nod.

He has even more to think about now. Like the fact there is something familiar about Jasper, and how can a psychopath have such a strong friendship when he lacks empathy, isn't empathy the bases of friendship?

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

So anyone wanna guess who Jasper is TV/Movie wise?


	21. More Questions than Answers

June 20th, 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
When they get into the car, he hands the papers he wrote up for the challenges to Jim.

The agent smiles at him encouragingly, accepting them and reading without saying anything.

It leaves the trip back to the flat is quiet, peaceful even. The entire time his mind is spinning. He is still trying to understand how Jim has a friend, and a good friend at that. Everything he knows about psychopaths and sociopaths tells him it's not possible. Yet he had clearly seen the bond between them. There is nothing sexual about it, but it's still deep, deeper than any friendship he had seen while in uni or growing up. How?

Chewing on his lower lip, he considers what he knows of the agent. The fact Jim is sassy, bores easily, is as intelligent as him, maybe even more intelligent, deadly, remorseless, warped sense of humor, good at field work even if he doesn't like it, excellent memory, enjoys silence and music, and understand body language. Even though Jim doesn't seem to understand emotional motivation, the psychopath still gets people better than him. There seems to be more questions about Jim and his motivation than answers. Why is that?

When the car pulls to a stop, Jim states, -I said I would answer your questions. I still will, whenever you are ready to ask. Though I am sure that it will just cause more questions to form. That's good though, it means your mind is sharp and you are considering the details.-

He blinks, nodding slowly.

-We can also discuss your findings. You should get some rest.- the agent continues with a smile. -You did quite well. I am curious about several of your choices.-

-Why?- he asks after he climbs out of the car, brows drawing together and a small frown curving his lips.

-You picked unexpected paths, I am curious about your logic.-Jim remarks with a shrug. -I know I think of buildings I can go over, under, or through, but was not expecting that from you since it wasn't part of the challenge. It's just further proof you're smarter than you think.-

Lost in thought, he wanders through the flat to his room where he sprawls on the bed to consider the implications and questions. He stays still for most of the night, mind going a thousand miles per hour. Between John and Jim he's not sure who's right or wrong. They are telling him and treating him different than anyone else ever has, including his brother. Why? It's confusing. At the same time he feels a fluttering excitement deep in his belly. Hope for something he's not used to having and not sure he can have. Not if his current track record is anything to go by.

When he comes awake suddenly, he is surprised that he fell asleep. When did he fall asleep and why? Was he really that tired? Maybe he needed the sleep.

Getting up, he decides to change out of his now wrinkled suit and into a pair of jeans, shirt, and socks. Maybe be can eat breakfast down stairs today. He's avoided his brother for the last few days. Maybe he shouldn't today. At the same time, he is feeling pretty decent about himself right now, and doesn't want his brother to make him feel like worthless again.

Quietly, he pads downstairs, debating about eating in the kitchen or in the dining room.

When the cook spots him, she beams, waving him over to her small table and bustling around. A few moments later the air is filled with the scent of fresh berry pancakes hips them together. He watches in fascination, deciding that cooking must be a form of chemistry. How does Miranda know what to mix and when? He's seen so many recipes that are for the same thing but different, how does she know which ones are right? Maybe he should try learning how to cook. It would be something different, new, yet tied to things he appreciates doing. It's definitely worth thinking about.

He continues to consider the idea while she finishes cooking, smothers his pancakes in creamy fresh butter, and warm maple syrup.

-Thank you,- he signs absently as he accepts the plate, he loves pancakes like these. Miranda is one of the few people whose food he accepts without question because she always tries to make sure the texture is something he can handle.

She nods, smiling at him and returning to what she was doing before he entered the kitchen.

Still he continues to watch, enjoying her simple and efficient of doing things. She doesn't waste movement or motions as she works, and her focus seems to be on the task at hand yet she still manages to keep up with several projects at once. That takes a type of intelligence he's not sure he can do. Yet, that's not true, back when he was still in the lab he would do that with his experiments, often having several going and taking notes on each carefully. It's the same principle. Hmm. It's something to keep in mind. Maybe he should try out the new lab sometime sooner than later.

When he is done with breakfast, he debates about whether he should go work in the lab or go get Jim to explain his friendship. Which does he feel is more important right now? The friendship, the experiments will be there later.

Stretching, he goes looking for the agent. He find's Jim sitting on the bottom of the steps to the upstairs, fingers lightly drumming against his leg.

-Morning Sherlock, did you enjoy the pancakes? Miranda is quite good.- the dark-haired agent comments.

He nods, agreeing with that statement.

-Shall we head to the library, study, basement, or one of the rooms to have our conversation? That way you have somewhere you can write questions if you'd prefer over signing.- Jim suggests, standing up and tilting his head in that reptilian manner he has seen several times.

-Library,- he answers slowly, deciding that might be the best place to have this talk.

Nodding, Jim turns and heads in that direction movement fluid and reminding him of a dancer. At one point he considered being a dancer but his family had discouraged it. Once in the library, he grabs a pad of paper out of the desk and jotting the questions down in quick succession. He then hands the questions to Jim and waits for the answers. The agent takes his time reading the answers, lips curving and eyes gleaming.

-Let's begin with how I met Jasper, it went like this,- Jim begins taking his time to answer the questions. Expanding on each answer as he jots down further questions. He was right, there is more questions than answers, but it's very interesting and leaves him a lot to think about while he sits quietly with John that evening.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

Those who figured out he is the Craig Bond Q would be correct. This is pre-movies before he actually reaches that point in his career. Thanks for reading and reviewing! Also, not actually describing how Jasper & Jim became friends because that will be in Recruited (which I am doing some editing before I start posting)

Also: I'm sorry this was posted on Saturday, FF kept telling me unable to connect with the servers last night.


	22. Check Up (II)

June 22nd, 2005  
Mycroft's POV  
Sherlock has avoided him since Saturday. Yet again he has messed up when he was trying to do something right. How can he run a country from the shadows, track hundreds of agents and missions, and quietly manipulate a multitude of politicians and bureaucrats yet he keeps making mistake after mistake with his brother? It seems to defy logic, but that is what conclusion he comes to as he stares blankly at the paper before him.

He has an appointment with Doctor Watson at two pm to discuss his brother, the progress, and plan going forward. Perhaps he should discuss the difficulties he is having, maybe the doctor could give him advice on how to be of assistance since he is clearly doing something wrong and has been for a while now.

Closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose and bites back a sigh. There is two more meetings between now and then, he needs to get his head in the game and deal with the problems in the best possible manner. That doesn't happen if he's distracted.

Forcing his mind to clear, he focuses on the situation at hand.

The two meetings seem to drag on, mostly because he keeps getting distracted and it's not something he appreciates. Not in the least. Despite that, he manages to keep his features smooth and bland, not giving away any of the turmoil his normally fixed mind is in.

When fifteen minutes to two, he is ready to go, all of the paperwork has been completed that needed to be done before he left. His afternoon work will all be delivered to him after his meeting with the doctor so he can complete it while he is at home.

His assistant gives him a peculiar look but doesn't actually say anything. Probably a good thing, it's not like he would actually answer her. This is one topic that he tries not to discuss with anyone. Maybe that is why he is having so many difficulties with it. He knows there are some things that have to be discussed in order to gain clarity, however he has a hard time opening up. Moriarty was not wrong when he accused him of cutting off his emotions for his career. At the time it seemed like the best course of action. After all, it's not like they have ever really helped him.

With his mind still spinning, working through so many details, he absently takes everything in as he moves to the car, and checks his surroundings. He had gone from agent to controller faster than most would expect. Actually, if Moriarty wanted he probably done the same thing. The only reason the agent doesn't know is his attachment to Pike. Hmmm. That's one of those relationships he has a hard time understanding. Particularly considering how fiercely they protect each other and those they consider theirs.

It makes no sense. Moriarty is definitely a psychopath, Pike is definitely not. Yet they work as one of the best teams in MI5 or MI6. When those two decide that they need to deal with a problem it is a brutal and efficient task. They tend to go radio silent, which drives the handlers crazy, but they accomplish their goals with a type of precision that he wishes some of the other agents had. The only other team he can think of like that is 006 and 007. Both teams have different dynamics. He's just happy the pair hasn't decided to team up together since Trevelyan came back, cleared of all charges.

When the car comes to a stop, he waits for his PA to get out before he does, his mind automatically scanning the area to make sure that there is not a threat before moving into the building.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Holmes. Doctor Watson will be with you shortly," the receptionist informs him politely, a warm smile gracing her features as she greets him. "Would you like tea or coffee? We always have some in the back."

"Tea," he replies quietly.

"Letty will be right out with it," she responds with a nod before turning her attention back to her computer.

He takes a seat, and less than a minute later a rather plump young woman with a pleasant smile brings him the tea. It takes him three minutes to drink the tea, and it's five minutes before Doctor Watson escorts a young couple from his office.

New patients, he thinks as he studies them, correction: new patients who have recently adopted a hard of hearing child and wish to adapt. He watches as the doctor bids them good day, reminding them to check with the resources he emailed them, before turning towards him.

-Hello Mycroft, come on back,- the doctor greets him, motioning towards the back hall and his office. –Leave the cup, Letty will come get it shortly.-

He nods in agreement, setting the cup on the small table and standing to follow the blonde to his office.

Once they have settled into their spots, the doctor inquires, -How have you been?-

He takes a deep breath, considering how he wishes to answer that question. Part of him hopes to have a confidant in John, another part of him cautions against it.

-Ah. Yes.- the smaller man remarks, eyes watching him narrowly. –Jim mentioned that Sherlock overheard a not so favorable conversation over the weekend. If you would like to discuss it, I can promise it's not something I will discuss with someone else. Nor will it go onto the computer file.-

He bristles at the implication, before common sense has him asking, -What about the paper files?-

Lips curving in a smile, the doctor responds, - I keep two different sets. One that the other doctors can read for in case there is a patient that needs to see someone else. A second set which I would like to see them read, I have considered giving a set of fakes ones of those to Jim to see if he could break the code.-

Several minutes pass in silence as he considers the implications. He does need someone to discuss his brother with that he can mention his fears and worries. Doctor Watson is a perfect candidate. As much as he dislikes Moriarty, he has to admit the two have been good for his brother. He is still upset about Saturday. What were they thinking?

-What were you thinking Saturday? How foolish could you be to take someone in such a fragile state out like that!- he exclaims angrily.

-No more foolish than you were by cutting off the only support he had.- Doctor Watson replies blandly.

Twice he opens his mouth to snarl at the younger man only to snap his mouth shut and glare instead. After all, the doctor wouldn't be able to hear what he was saying.

-Now that that is in the open, shall we discuss this like logical adults?- the blonde remarks calmly, -Jim is MI6, which means that you work for a higher branch of the government, after all, civilians do not just get a psychopathic agent to act as sitter and minder. I supposed he could be freelancing, but the comment 'on loan' tells me otherwise.-

The light on the corner of the desk flashes, and the doctor taps it, a moment later the door is opened. A slender young man, not one he has seen before slips in with a tea service, setting it on the edge of the desk before slipping out just as quietly.

-Tea?- John inquires, setting up the cups before he has even had a chance to agree.

-Yes, please.- he replies calmly.

With practiced ease, the smaller man makes both cups, quietly passing him the first before taking the second for himself.

-Listen Mycroft, I understand that you have a job to do. I understand that you have made that job your number one priority, but if you want to help your brother. Honestly wish to help him because you actually give a damn and not just because you feel guilty, then you are going to have to deal with the problems between the two of you.- He goes to respond before the doctor has finished only to have a hand held up before him in a motion for quiet. -I am not saying it all has to be dealt with at once. But it will need to be dealt with. Now say whatever it is you were going to say.-

Instead of immediately speaking, he thinks carefully about the statement. Where Moriarty had almost verbally attacked him, Doctor Watson was calm. Not accusing him of anything, merely making an observation statement.

-What do you suggest?- he asks shortly, having a feeling he's not going to like the actual answer.

-First, you need to sit down and explain to Sherlock why you abandoned him. It's going to be painful. He's probably going to be furious with you. It's going to most likely cause several explosions before it's out of his system. Following that, you need to improve your communication skills. You excel at your job, I'm sure, but you cannot treat your brother like a job unless you want this to happen again.- Doctor Watson answers firmly. –Also, there will be bad days, there will be relapses. The key is to lessen their impact by being there to support him. Right now he is quite certain you would rather he died and you are only doing this out of guilt.-

John pauses to take a drink of his tea, giving him a moment to absorb the information.

His brother might not be as smart as him, but he doesn't want him dead. How could Sherlock think he wants him dead? Actually, never mind, he understands when he considers exactly what Moriarty had said to him along with this. He thought he was protecting his brother by ignoring his existence. Apparently that was the wrong choice. Well then, he will have to make a few changes. Now how to do it without putting his family at risk from his enemies? It's definitely something he's going to have to think about.

-Continue,- he requests after a few more moments of silence.

-I would suggest you finding someone you can trust to discuss things with, because from what I can tell you are bottling things up and not actually dealing with stress in a healthy manner.- the blonde suggests. Smiling at him, John continues, -I've seen you make great strides so far in order to help him. I believe you are being sincere, so I believe that you could make the necessary changes to avoid this sort of issue happening again in such a massive manner.-

He takes a deep breath, considering his options before querying, -Would you be willing to act the part?-

Doctor Watson arches an eyebrow at him questioningly, his facial expressions saying far more than words ever would, much to his amusement.

-I can be, if you'd like.- the younger man agrees with a nod, -It would not be the first time I have done something of that nature, though normally those sort of cases are given to those with more open hours than me. Still, I can do so. After hours or before hours appointments are also acceptable since I am aware that you have a unpredictable work schedule from the planning process.-

He nods, letting out a soft breath of relief he hadn't realized he was holding well that's a good thing. Doctor Watson would keep his secrets, and would be to help him deal with his brother. With as effective as the doctor is, he is mildly surprised he doesn't have a big clinic, right up until he remembers exactly how much money has been sunk into making this one as high tech as possible for staff and patients alike.

His mind quickly goes over all the staffing details, the fact there is a very low overturn rate. That a lot of the doctors are actually here under residency and only half of them actually work here full time. Those that do however, are all as dedicated as Doctor Watson. None of his staff have records, pretty close to all of them have come from lower-middle class and had to be at the top of their graduating class in order to get scholarships to finish their degrees and training. There have been quite a few who have applied to work here and been turned away for one reason or another.

-Excellent.- He comments, -Now, what do I need to know or do for this week regarding Sherlock?-

The blonde studies him for a long moment, nodding once as if deciding something.

The next half hour is spent discussing his brother, and the treatment being provided. Nothing confidential is said, and he is impressed with the doctors ability to say nothing and everything all in one round.

When he stands to leave, he comments -You would have made an excellent politician had you gone that route.-

Chuckling, John responds, -Don't you know, doctors are better at talking circles than politicians, have to be to keep up with privacy and those who try to get in it.-

He nods, that actually makes a lot of sense. He will make an appointment for himself next week. For now, his focus is on his brother and setting things right.

-Would it be possible for you to come to the flat on Sunday afternoon? I wish to have a discussion with him and feel having you there as a neutral party would be a benefit.- He states clearly, waiting for an answer.

-I can. Understand that my primary focus will be assisting Sherlock in coping in whatever fashion he needs that is not harmful to his health.- the doctor answers smoothly, nodding once in agreement.

-Excellent, I will arrange a car?- he offers, not sure if John drives or not. He knows the doctor has a license but as far as he knows he doesn't have a car.

-That would be appreciated. What time shall I expect it?- the smaller man inquires.

-Will three pm work for you?- he asks after a moment of thought.

-Yes,- the doctor responds with a nod.

-Perfect. Until then.- he bids the doctor before turning and leaving.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

So they have hit a changing point, woot!


	23. Challenge Continued

_This is not how I originally planned for this chapter to go, however a combination of a migraine from external reasons and a chatty Jim resulted in this instead. I look forward to seeing what folks think._

* * *

 _June 20th, 2005  
Jim's POV_  
He's sitting in the lobby watching all the people coming and going, almost bored out of his mind because of the inactivity. These people are dull. So very ordinary and boring with nothing to keep his attention. The only almost interesting one is the boy in foster care because his birth family is abusive. A few quick text messages and one picture message later and he's certain that situation will be dealt with in a satisfy manner.

He blinks when Jasper slides into the seat next to him, handing him a tiny ear wig that seems different from the normal ones.

–You're slipping Jim. Normally I can't sneak up on you. – His friend remarks with a few quick flicks of his fingers, combining ASL, BSL, and their own personal quick hand signs. It makes for an interesting occasion when others try to understand.

–I'm bored.– He replies, rolling his neck and shoulders. –These people are boring.–

Chuckling, Pike tips his head, eyes flashing around the room as he takes them in with a similar ability. –That's why I'm here. I know better than leaving you to your own devices too long. –

He sits up a bit straighter, normally an answer like that means Jasper has something for him or has a challenge. He likes challenges, they keep him occupied. Actually, he wants to know what John thinks of his answers to the challenge. He'll have to ask later. For now, best pay attention to Jasper, because that sassy little shit sometimes makes the details the key points and other times doesn't but never in a pattern.

–I saw what you wrote up for the doctor, I'm taking it one step further. You have to figure out which person from your list you are to assist with a situation. You can't use the network for anything other than simple information, and only three people from the entire thing. Sebastian is off-limits. As are most of your handy weapons I have already put away for you.- Pike states, each motion clear and full of extra meaning that he is already processing.

Which of the many people that they ran into while on the rounds with John has Pike decided he should help? That's actually a difficult one because he hadn't been paying attention to what sort of troubles they had, only why they bother to get out of bed every day.

Hmmmm, what to do, what to do. With Pike limiting his use of the network and forbidding him from calling no his favorite sniper that makes things a bit more tricky since he can't actually have them do the footwork. Add the fact he doesn't actually leave Sherlock except when the younger genius is seeing the doctor, well that just adds to the to the challenge.

Though, now that he thinks about it, it's kind of funny he is being paid to be a stalker, when normally he's told _not_ to be a stalker.

He spends nearly the entire time his ward is in with the doctor considering his options. Can he solve this one before Pike leaves?

Also why the new earwig? Unless it's one of Pike's earwigs that he wants tested out without having to go to those idiots they work with to do so. That'd make sense. Particularly since his best friend delights in being a head of the times with computers, gadgets and technology.

They haven't had anyone in need of dying lately, he thinks as he continues to consider the options. It's none of the people over thirty they saw. Not the two trans men, or the one trans woman, or that group of non-binary folks, though he probably should send Seb to see if he can be of assistance.

He jumps slightly, body tensing as Jasper pinches the underside of his rib cage.

-I said help, not send Sebastian to deal with a side problem.- his best friend informs him with a scowl. –Back to the actual problem.-

A smile tugs at his lips but he doesn't actually do so, because he isn't supposed to be smiling over someone who knows his mischief so well and sticks around. He's pretty sure that's considered unhealthy.

-Send Sebastian after someone and I am blocking each and every one of your accounts for however many weeks as amount of people he 'deals' with.- Jasper states firmly.

He considers pouting but knows it will do no good. Instead he turns his mind back to the problem, listing off all the people they ran no matter how minor a run in.

Who does his partner think he should help without sending an assassin, sniper, spies or thieves to assist?

That's a tricky one. What other ways can he help? Well he can give money but he leaves that in Pike's more moral hands. He can threaten and terrorize. He can match people together. He can provide assistance of the physical sort but really he prefers sending his minions for that. He is good at negotiating and contracts. Remembering details that other people miss.

Wait a moment, that's it, the kid who was trying to negotiate that they passed on the street. He was dealing with a landlord of the unsavory sort. The type who normally avoid him because even when he was a criminal he kept his word unless given a reason not to. He might be ever so changeable, but nothing is done without purpose. That's the key.

-The boy, trying to negotiate for housing with the slum lord. He's the one you think I could help.- He declares, relaxing back into the chair without giving it much more thought.

-That's part of it. Now tell me why you and not the others?- Pike queries, fiddling with his phone.

That was only part of the answer? How? Wait, the challenge was who can he help without use of his network, sniper, or access to weapons. The kid's the right answer only there is something more. What more is there?

He can pay the kid a visit. No, that's not it, because if that was it he would have already had it and his minions wouldn't be off limits. How else?

His eyes narrow as he glances over friend. Oh.

 _Oh._

-You're an arse.- he comments

-Catch on finally did you?- Jasper replies, glancing up from his phone to smirk in his direction.

-I don't want more friends.- he grumbles, -I am already certain my social circle of non-minions is growing by at least two. Possibly three because I have decided that the elder Holmes is an interesting challenge I wish to see if he's actually worthwhile or not.-

Shaking his head, the other agent just chuckles, -Only you Jim, only you.-

-I don't need more friends, minions are more useful. They don't require a lot of work, are easy to upkeep, and I can ignore them for the most part.- he explains, even though Jasper has heard him do that before.

He almost considers asking why they are still using sign language but decides against it since there are no voices except the receptionist that he can easily hear. Even though folks who are speaking, are very quiet and mostly doing it as a translating function. Why do people find it so hard to learn sign language? They're easy, all of them, at least all the ones he's applied himself to so far. Idiots, the whole lot of them, why isn't he allowed to—

"Stop," he hisses.

Jasper's eyes narrow on him and he remembers once more why they are friends. He might be the psychopath but Jasper is just barely on this side of not a sociopath. They are friends because their personalities slot together nicely. Even though Jasper has a conscious and often acts as his, the other agent is like his name sake of Pike.

-Got it,- he states with a lazy shrug. –Sometimes I have a hard time remembering why we get along so well when you actually care. Then you do something to remind me.-

Smirking, Jasper responds, -I get bored too. I'm just not as wantonly destructive as you.-

He nods in agreement, that sums them up in a nutshell.

After most of the lobby has cleared out he asks, -Why don't we send Mitti to that kid? He can become the boy's companion and set that landlord straight.- His smile turns cruel, -If the landlord doesn't want to be straight I am more than willing to pay him a visit if you're not going to get too annoyed with it.-

Jasper thinks about it for a bit before nodding, -That's acceptable.-

Several more minutes pass in almost silence as they people watch, occasionally signing something to each in quick hand. More to practice than to actually communicate.

-Have you considered why you wish to be friends with Sherlock?- Pike eventually asks after the receptionist leaves.

It takes him a few minutes to decide how to answer that, of course his best friend asks the question he has the hardest time explaining. -He reminds me of that boy from Cardiff.-

Neither says anything as they recall exactly who he is referring to. It was one of their first jobs together as agents, and still something he makes sure to remember years later.

-I understand,- Jasper eventual agrees. –Doctor Watson?-

-He's different.- he answers automatically. Tipping his head to the side, he states, -Actually they both are. Sherlock is almost like you, but just a bit like me. He has your creative streak and my destructive streak. John's just different.-

Anger flashes across his friends features for a heartbeat only to vanish as quick as it came. -Not surprising, we're cousins. Mycroft assumes that I adopted the name Jasper Gray, when in truth it has been me all along.-

-That explains why I've seen flashes of you in Mycroft too, when he is not trying to be the Iceman.- he comments with a shrug. –I enjoy flirting with him, it puts him off balance.-

Chuckling, Jasper nods, -Of balance is always fun with him. I enjoyed it during my recruitment and when I recruited you.-

-Of course,- he replies, -It's why we make such an excellent team. You have just enough morals to make sure I don't kill everything and I have just enough ruthlessness to ensure no one who's supposed to be dead lives.-

-We are balanced like that.- his friend responds with a nod, attention turning towards the hall the office is down.

Both of them stand as they hear the door, neither saying a word as they wait. He's aware that Sherlock is still a long ways from healed and sound of mind. With the damage done, he might never be able to escape the occasional bad day. That's something he can get. His bad days tend to end with someone in pieces. Thankfully, with their jobs, Jasper excels at finding him targets who need to vanish. Would something like that interest Sherlock?

His eyes sweep over the teenager as the pair enters the lobby. No, he wouldn't want to be the committing the deed, he'd want to be the one solving it.

-Case files? A few non classified ones?- He asks with quick hand, turning to introduce them to each other.

Jasper switches to BSL, responding, -Hello Sherlock, John.- A playful smile plays at the edge of his friends lips and his head inclines just the slightest in agreement. Perfect. –I decided to check in with my troublesome friend since he causes mischief when left on his own too long.-

John's eyes narrow as he blandly replies, -I can believe that.-

-I'm completely innocent,- he declares, thinking off all the mischief they have gotten up to over the years.

He has to bite back a successful smile when Sherlock ducks his head and smiles. With sharp eyes he watches how the teen's throat works as if he is considering saying something. Yet another step in the correct direction. When Sherlock finally comes into his own, he's going to be a fun person to compete with and spend time with. He's already more interesting the most idiots. While they're not friends now, he can easily see them becoming friends later.

Of course, he internally smirks as he continues to blandly talk with them, Sherlock might be as destructive as him. John on the other hand is like Pike with the calm and collected but fierce and loyal. They'll definitely make an interesting team.

Bidding the doctor good night, they head to the car.

He's still wondering what's with the new earwig but plans on leaving it in until he has an answer.

* * *

Publishing schedule, I will update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

So they have hit a changing point, woot!


	24. Pre-Meeting Jitters

June 26th, 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
When he first discovered that John was coming over for Sunday, he was excited. Now though, as he gets ready for the doctor's arrival, he starts fretting. What if he does something wrong and John wants to leave immediately? John's coming over to mediate between his brother and him, what if John thinks Mycroft is right and that he is doing something wrong? What if- he shakes his head to stop the thoughts and break away from that line of thinking. There are better things he can consider. Like: could he play his violin for John? Would John be able to register it if he's playing? Should he show John downstairs to the lab? He hasn't been using it, but he could still show off a little bit. Maybe.

Pacing his room, he tries to focus on getting ready. So far he has slacks, socks, and shoes. Now he needs to pick a shirt to wear and decide if he wants to try taming his curls or not.

A single knock at his door tell him that Jim is just outside it.

Does he want the agent to come in? Maybe, maybe not? Would it be of any help if Jim did come in? Again, maybe, maybe not? Why's this so hard? The agent has been part of his life for the last ten days, surely by now he should know whether Jim will be useful or not.

Quickly crossing the floor, he throws the door open before returning to pacing.

Jim slips in, shutting the door behind himself and leaning against it calmly. Dark eyes watch as he continues to pace between his dresser, closet, and bed.

-He seems to enjoy the dark purple shirt,- Jim suggests when he glances towards the agent.

Stopping, he narrows his eyes and motions for the smaller man to continue.

-Well, normally he keeps his focus on your face. When you're wearing that dark purple shirt, his eyes follow its lines before returning to your face nearly every time, and several times over.- The agent states with a lazy shrug.

Thinking about it, he nods as he realizes that Jim's right, pivots on the ball of his foot, heading to the closet to grab that shirt. Well, one of them, he has a few different purple shirts. The dark purple with the silver buttons is actually his favorite because of how it feels against his skin, but it's not one he wears a lot. He should see about getting a few more like that one actually. Hmmm. Mycroft has offered to let him use the tailor as much as he wants, so he could do it, but he's feeling conflicted as to why his brother offered. He doesn't want pity, that's worse than dislike or indifference.

A more interesting thing to consider is why John would like how he looks in that shirt? He's not good looking. He never has been. Just ask anyone he went to school or university with. Frowning, he stops and stares at the mirror over his dresser as he continues to think of that question. It doesn't make sense.

He's startled out of his thoughts when Jim moves into his line of sight in the mirror.

-You look a bit thin right now, a little like your getting past a nasty illness, unkempt even, but the bases of a good looking adult are still there.- The agent tells him seriously. –Believe me, one of the most useful things about being a psychopath is the ability to read people and manipulate them as needed. Aesthetics and looks are often a large part of it. You could easily put your looks to work for you.-

He blinks, tilting his head to the side and studying the agent with narrow eyes. Jim's been open about being a psychopath and what he does. Is the smaller man being open here too? Could Jim be right? It seems hard to believe but as far as he knows the agent hasn't lied to him yet. It's definitely something to consider. Just not right now when John is supposed to be here in less than an hour and he's still not all the way dressed.

Giving a small shake of his head, he pulls the shirt on and sets to buttoning it.

Without turning from the mirror he slowly signs, -Think John would appreciate any of those?- finishing with a wave towards his instruments.

Jim turns towards them, eyes sweeping the collection before turning back. –Considering how well you play? Yes.- Rolling his head, the agent comments, -The cello might be the easiest for this room. We can make arrangements for you to take the violin to the office, I am quite sure he would be able to make it out there.-

Nodding, he moves over to the area the instruments are at, grabs the cello, and carries it over to his bed. He has a plan, plans are a good thing. Hopefully John will stick around long enough for him to get a chance to play. That would be a great thing and a wonderful way for the visit to go. Hopefully whatever his brother and the doctor want to talk about doesn't ruin the visit and he'll get a chance to.

Dark eyes narrow on him as Jim states quietly, "Don't worry, you will." There is both a threat and a promise in that statement, sending a small shiver down his spine.

* * *

There's a bit of an update to my updating schedule, it won't affect this story, but it affects the rest of them. Since reviews have dropped since I went on a regular schedule, I am going to switch back to updating as I get things done and have focus instead. However I also plan to try and complete each story, or as complete as I possibly can without feedback before I begin posting. Once I get the story ready, when it would have originally be updated on the schedule is when I will update it. I still won't be doing more than two stories any given day, disregarding tumblr prompts.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

So they have hit a changing point, woot!


	25. Ploting & Planning

June 26th, 2005  
Jim's POV  
Once Sherlock is calm and getting ready, he heads downstairs, freezing in place as the earwig flickers on, a very low buzzing noise alerting him to that fact.

' _Good. You can hear me I assume?'_ Jasper inquires in his ear.

"I can," he replies with a nod, not thinking about the fact it is an earwig because of how clear it is.

' _Did you just nod?_ ' his friend inquires, delight in his voice.

Snorting, he responds, "I did."

' _Excellent!_ ' The hacker exclaims, ' _These new one's are a lot more sensitive. Better yet, they can read some of the head movement vibrations and translate them into words for me. It's not perfect, but it's what I am working on right now. Also, these are a closed line. The only people who can hear what is being said is you and I._ '

"Well that's useful. Why are you making them?" He queries as he heads to the kitchen to get a juice from the fridge. He probably won't eat with the John and the brothers this evening.

' _The usual reason._ ' Jasper replies carelessly.

"You're bored," he states with a chuckle, knowing his friend well. "Why don't you pop by today around four?" he suggests, figuring out roughly when the conversation should be done with the serious parts.

He heads to his room next, deciding he wants to wear something different for the evening. Maybe he'll wear something with some of his toys? Even if he's not going to use them, he likes to have them at hand.

' _What happens today at four that you would like my presence for?_ ' The hacker inquires.

He can hear Jasper typing something as his friend speaks, fingers flying over the keyboard, probably multiple keyboards knowing the other agent.

Once he is in his room, he replies, "John is coming over to mediate between Sherlock and Mycroft, then have dinner following. You have always been more diplomatic than me."

' _Bullshit. I'm just better at masking my disdain for people._ ' Jasper retorts as he continues typing. ' _For all your ability to bluff and manipulate, you've never had patients for those you feel need to die or stop acting like idiots._ '

"Guilty," he chuckles, knowing exactly how right his partner is.

' _The blue suit, the one you always keep on the left._ ' The hacker tells him as he paces his room, ' _Wear it and you will find a surprise and a small gift for behaving._ '

He's excited by the prospect of a gift.

Heading to his closet, he quickly pulls the suit in question out, eyes quickly skimming over it and noticing the new buttons on it. Those aren't his surprise, he's quite sure. They're more for Jasper's use. So that's not it. Carrying the suit over to the bed, he lays it out, hands skimming over the smooth material. He grins in triumph when he finds the new tie, and more importantly, his fingers find the garrote within the hem.

Is that all? He wonders, continuing his search.

' _Have you found it yet? Not the garrote, that's a given, and I promised you a new one after our last mission._ ' Jasper questions in amusement.

"Not yet," he replies, "I'm still looking."

' _I'd say you are being slow except I was trying to make sure it was hard to find._ ' His friend comments with a chuckle. ' _I think you will appreciate it._ '

"Damn it," he mutters as he finishes checking the jacket. There is nothing in the jacket, nothing in the shirt, nothing in the vest, now on to the trousers.

Low laughter makes him smirk.

' _Tic-tock, tic-tock_ ,' Jasper taunts, ' _Come now Jim, James found his surprise in under two minutes, Alec under four, Sebastian under three._ '

"Should I be jealous you're giving the head of my web surprises?" he inquires as his hands finish checking the trousers, coming up with nothing.

The hacker snorts. ' _It depends on why you would be jealous._ '

He laughs, nodding in agreement, and answering, "That's true, there's never been anything between us beyond friendship and never will be. That confuses many since we are physically affectionate with each other some days."

' _It makes some jealous though the idiot does nothing about it._ ' His friend grumbles, ' _I swear one of these days I am going to steal a page out of your book, knock their arses out, and bring them home as a gift to myself._ '

"We both know you have too much morals to do that," he replies as he grabs the socks and shoes he wears with this particular outfit, still not finding his surprise. "I must be an idiot today, because I haven't found it," he whines.

Laughter fills his ear once more. ' _Really?_ '

"Yes," he grumbles, pouting and returning to the top of the suit to check it again. What is he missing?

' _Inside right pocket,_ ' the hacker suggests.

What pocket? He wonders, he's had this suit for years there's no pocket there. Opening the top of the suit, his eyes skim over the material looking for the pocket that is apparently now there. When he spots it, cleverly hidden by the hem, his fingers skim over it, barely noticing the difference in the materials feel. If it wasn't for the fact Jasper told him it was there he wouldn't have noticed.

"Very interesting," he murmurs, questioning, "When did you learn to sew?"

' _I get bored. The alterations to your jacket were part of a project of mine. You tend to notice the smallest of changes so you are a perfect test subject._ ' Jasper remarks playfully, ' _Well? What do you think?_ '

Opening the pocket, his fingers slip inside and he pulls out a small package. His eyes skim over it, taking in the details before opening it. He can't stop the pleased noises that escape himself as he realizes what it is.

"Is this primacord?" he asks excitedly, "Did you finally figure out how to make it the size of thin wire?"

' _You can use it on your next task. I'll be taking your place Wednesday to Friday so you may deal with something._ ' Jasper tells him. ' _MI5 and MI6 are arguing over who gets the case so I have decided to send you and file the paperwork afterwards. I'll make sure you have all the information this evening. Thank you for the invite. It gives me a reason to be there._ '

It's his turn to chuckle.

' _You'll be testing it out. Also,_ ' there is a brief pause, ' _I would suggest using the network. I already have several scouting and doing small tasks._ '

"Then I will gather information from them as well," he replies, "See you in two hours?"

' _Yes, you'll see me in two hours._ ' Jasper answers, ' _Who the hell teaches these idiots coding? I've seen children who can hack better than this. I will speak to you in a bit, I apparently have to fix someone's error in the system before it becomes a problem._ '

He's still laughing when the line goes dead, he is sure there is a word that can make it go online, he's just not going to bother with it. Instead he tucks the tiny primacord back into his pocket. He strips out of his clothing and changes into the blue suit. Carefully he checks the hems while wearing it to see if he can feel them, quite pleased when he doesn't, that could be very handy.

Jasper has good tastes, he decides as he looks at himself in the mirror. Very good tastes. How the hell does his friend remain single? Oh yes, his preference doesn't seem to realize. How he doesn't know. Jasper has been obvious, or maybe it's because he's known the hacker for so long that he realizes. Ah well, perhaps he will help set the situation up later. Not right now, he might be good at multitasking, but that will require more attention than he currently has available. His current task takes more focus than he expected, of course part of that focus is reminding himself tracking each and every person responsible for his charge being in this shape done is not allowable.

Still, it's definitely something that he will plot on in the back of his mind. At least until time or a situation comes up where he can do something about it. Jasper deserves a bit of happiness.

* * *

There's a bit of an update to my updating schedule, it won't affect this story, but it affects the rest of them. Since reviews have dropped since I went on a regular schedule, I am going to switch back to updating as I get things done and have focus instead. However I also plan to try and complete each story, or as complete as I possibly can without feedback before I begin posting. Once I get the story ready, when it would have originally be updated on the schedule is when I will update it. I still won't be doing more than two stories any given day, disregarding tumblr prompts.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	26. Mediator

June 26th, 2005  
John's POV  
He is ready well before he needs to be and chooses to spend some time in his office as he considers how he is hoping today should go.

It's been two days since he last saw Sherlock. They had dinner his office while having one on of their not really talking and just happily sharing space evenings together. He's quite sure that Sherlock is going to recover and go on to be amazing. It's just a hard and time consuming process. Sherlock has made more progress in two weeks then a lot of people make in months, sometimes even years. Despite that, it is not a good idea to compare any two patient's progress because each person will heal on their own time schedule.

However, he does think the upcoming conversation is needed for the healing process. He is equally sure there will be more than one of them, and that there will probably be at least one explosion. Both brothers have things they need to say to get off their chest. Both brothers will hurt each other emotionally before they will be able to repair the damage already there. Before there is any chance of that damage being repaired, they will have to face it, and that's going to hurt no matter how clinically it is done.

He stops typing for a moment, eyes closing as he considers every conversation and meeting he has had with both, everything he knows about both. After his last conversation with Mycroft, he had been surprised by the PA stopping by with a large file. She had seemed hesitant to give it to him, but finally had with a curt nod before leaving. If he was a betting man, he'd wager that she thinks of her boss as a friend, or something close to one and doesn't wish to see him hurt.

Actually, his eyes open as he considers what the PA looks like and Sherlock, wondering if there is some sort of familial relationship between them. It would make sense that she was family, friend, and partner. He'll have to ask about it later. It's not important at the moment.

Checking the clock, he realizes what time it is and closes everything out, he refuses to be late when he was ready so very early, far earlier than he really needed to be.

Just as he gets to the door the black car pulls curb side and the dark haired PA steps out.

-Is there something I can call you?- he asks the assistant as he exits the clinic.

The dark haired woman blinks at him once as if processing the information in a manner that reminds him of Sherlock before nodding. –Anna or Anthea,- she responds with a smile, -They are waiting for you Doctor Watson.-

-Nice to meet you,- he comments before sliding into the car.

The ride to the flat is peaceful, he is still thinking about the situation he is walking into and she is toying with her phone. When they reach the flat, she escorts him inside before calling something out that he cannot make out, bidding him farewell, and leaving. Less than a minute later Sherlock is there, stocking feet sliding on the wooden floors.

-Hello Sherlock,- he greets the younger man with warm smile, -Good day so far?-

Sherlock nods in response, head bobbing once, hands hesitantly flickering a quick, -Yes.-

-That's good,- he replies calmly, still smiling at his patient and almost-friend. –Would you like to show me around?-

Again Sherlock nods, reaching out to grab his hand before dragging him through the flat.

He laughs, easily keeping up as they make their way to a basement. When they reach the room, Sherlock stops just inside the door, watching him like a hawk as he takes everything in. Someone converted this to a very well stocked and designed lab.

Since the young genius is just about vibrating with excitement, he takes his time exploring the room. He hasn't been in this type of lab in a long while. The last time he was, he had an interrupter with him to give him the instructions and warn him when others were being idiots. This lab is just as good, maybe even better, than that lab. He'll have to have Sherlock show and tell him about the experiments he likes to do.

-It's a very nice lab,- he tells the younger man as he completes the circuit of the room and comes to stop just before Sherlock. –Have you had a chance to use it yet?-

The dark-haired genius looks a bit embarrassed as he shakes his head no.

-He's been a bit busy,- Jim remarks as he strides over, -It's on the planner though.- An almost sincere smile curves the psychopath's lips as he states, -Hello John.-

-Hi Jim,- he replies with a chuckle, watching as Sherlock relaxes slightly.

-Just figured I would say hi before your meeting,- the agent remarks, -I'm planning on spending the afternoon reading unless I am otherwise needed, might join for dinner, haven't decided yet.-

-Reading is a good past time,- he responds with a nod, -One I do quite often.-

-Well, I will leave him to showing you around the rest of the house,- the psychopath remarks, turning and leaving before either has a chance to say anything.

Smiling at Sherlock mischievously, he comments, -I'm still not sure if I like him or not.-

The younger man ducks his head and smirks, nodding slightly, -Yeah.-

-Show me the rest?- he suggests, knowing this might be a bit much for the recovering genius.

The next little bit is spent with them wandering from room to room. Though they do not actually speak, he does make little comments here and there, enjoying the different expressions that flicker across Sherlock's face as he does so. They go through the entire downstairs, his favorite room being the library.

When they stop in front of a door, Sherlock hesitates as if unsure of himself and nervous, shifting from foot to foot and biting his lower lip.

-You could show me the upstairs if you want?- he suggests, trying for relaxing.

Shaking his head, the younger man doesn't actually answer but slowly reaches for the door.

This must be the meeting with Mycroft. Sherlock is afraid of this for some reason. He'll just have to make sure sherlock knows he is there for him.

As the door swings open, he smiles encouragingly at the young genius.

Reaching out, he lightly touches the genius' arm, drawing Sherlock's attention to him.

Swallowing, the younger man looks at him, waiting to see what he has to say.

-Whatever happens, we're friends,- he informs his patient, meaning every word of it. They have only known each other for just a little over two weeks but he feels that they are friends already.

Several moments are spent with the younger man studying him before Sherlock straightens his shoulders and smiles at him. Turning back towards the office, Sherlock steps through the door, walking in with a bit more confidence than he has seen in most his actions.

-Good afternoon, Sherlock, John.- the elder brother comments as they walk into the room, meeting both of their gazes. –If you would like to take a seat, I will have our cook bring a tea service and biscuits.-

He takes a seat on the small divan, smiling at the younger man when Sherlock settles next to him.

-Hello Mycroft,- he greets the politician, -Tea would be welcome.-

Lifting his phone, Mycroft taps out a text before setting it back down.

-She will be here shortly.- the elder brother states.

The three of them sit in relative peace, though he notices the longer they sit there not speaking, the tenser Sherlock gets. He studies both brothers, realizing that it is not just Sherlock who is getting tenser. Mycroft is as well, it shows in the way the older man is holding himself and his eyes keep darting to his brother. When he is done studying the brothers, he takes his time looking around the office like room, taking note of where everything is and thinking it is a cross between an office and a lounge.

The cook comes bustling in carrying a large tray, smiling at each of them before retreating once more after settling it on the small table by the divan.

Mycroft moves to one of the other chairs closer to them, inquiring, -How do you take your tea?-

He answers with a slight upwards tip to his lips and he thanks the older man when he's hands his tea.

The three of them continue to sit there quietly, his eyes flickering between the brothers who are trying to look anywhere but at each other, of course.

Should he try to start the conversation or let them stew a bit? He wonders as he glances between the pair. Better not let them stew, these two already have enough tension between them that the air could be cut with a knife, and a dull one at that.

-Sherlock, Mycroft,- he states calmly, only neither seems to realize it because they are trying so hard not to look at each other, they totally miss him signing.

Two more times he tries to catch their attention before finally deciding to try clapping his hands together lightly, not enough to be a shock, just enough to catch their attention. It works, both brothers look at him. Sherlock's eyes are a bit wide, startled, with just a touch of something else in them, fear or disbelief maybe. Mycroft's eyes are glassy as if he is trying not to show his emotions, yet his every action since they walked in was one tell after another. Maybe not to someone from the hearing world who relies on tone to relay emotion and feeling, but it's still there.

-Sorry about that, I tried saying your names but both of you are actively trying to look anywhere but at each other and didn't notice.- he comments, smiling reassuringly at Sherlock. –I think perhaps we should try to begin our discussion. There will definitely be more than one of these talks, because I am sure that covering everything between you will not be a simple matter. Not if you want to actually deal with the aftermath. So topic and beginning? I brought paper and a pen for Sherlock, I am sure you have one here as well, but forethought is important.-

Apprehensively, Sherlock nods, reaching towards him as if wanting the paper and pen.

He fishes it out of his case and hands it to the younger man, smiling at the younger man's startled expression when Sherlock realizes it's the same pen he offers in his office.

-I will begin,- Mycroft states, straightening in his seat and holding himself a bit stiffly.

Sherlock pivots in his spot so he is facing his brother's general direction without actually facing Mycroft.

-It has been brought to my attention in the last several weeks that I may have been mistaken in how I have handled our relationship.- The elder brother declares, -As such, I wish to apologize and ask how I may rectify the situation.-

Folding his hands, Mycroft sets them on his lap, looking directly at his brother and awaiting the answer.

That immediately puts Sherlock on the defensive, feeling like he is put on the spot. He can see how the younger man starts to tremble, picking the pen up to write but not getting very far because of the shaking.

-Mycroft,- he comments, drawing the older man's attention, - Stop directly putting pressure on your brother. Relax, perhaps write something for yourself. Actually, yes, I would like you to write down why you feel you have made a mistake, how, and what you think could be a solution while Sherlock considers your question at his pace.-

For a minute it looks like the politician is going to argue with him. Instead, Mycroft stands and heads to his desk in order to grab the required supplies before returning to the chair.

He nods approvingly when the older brother starts writing, only occasionally looking at Sherlock.

For nearly half an hour they stay like that. Sherlock is nervous and tense beside him, tapping the pen against the paper absently as he watches his brother with distrustful eyes. Mycroft appears to be equally nervous, though the outward signs require actually looking for them, because the older brother is doing a good job of masking it. He just considers what he knows about each and how to handle the situation.

Finally the Sherlock writes just one word on his notepad before passing it over.

His eyes flicker at the paper, noting the single word, and understanding it completely.

-He would like to know why.- He states when Mycroft's eyes meet his.

Nodding sharply, the elder brother considers the question, probably trying to decide which why to answer first. After all, there are several possible why's to be asked. He will wait to see which one the politician answers.

Passing the notepad back, he settles in to wait for the next leg in the conversation.

Actually, he thinks ten minutes in, tea.

Scooting to the edge of his spot, he reaches for the teapot, happy to find that there is still tea in it and it feels warms, so hopefully the tea will be warm as well. Absently he makes each of their cups with the same things as Mycroft before handing them out and settling back into his spot.

Another several minutes pass as the brothers sip at their tea, both of them sitting tensely waiting for the other.

When Mycroft finally starts to answer the question, it is almost hesitantly, as if he feels he may be wrong. It's quite a different mentality and display than he has previously shown.

-When I accepted the internship, I made the decision the best way to protect my family, and thus you Sherlock, was to cut contact as much as possible. I did not think that you would be adversely affected by it in the long run.- Mycroft begins, pausing for a moment as if to gather his thoughts. –After all, you were young. I thought you would find someone else to shadow.-

Sherlock flinches as his smacked, curling into himself as if trying to make himself smaller.

Eyes narrowing he nearly demands, -Do you actually wish for this to help or just going through the motions? You response so far has been the motions.-

Mycroft's mouth opens as if he is going to answer aloud before it snaps shut, and he signs, -I do.-

-Good.- he answers, then motions for the older man to continue.

-I convinced myself that I was right. After all, I am rarely wrong about things. You know that, you're the same way,- Mycroft continues after another pause as if considering his words further. –When you started to go downhill, I convinced myself it had nothing to do with me. You would have done that whether I was there or not.- This time when the older brother stops, it's to collect his composer because a flush has covered his face, making it splotchy. –Over the last seven months, things have been quite an eye-opener.-

Sherlock blinks at his brother, confusion plainly written across the younger brother's face.

Like when they speak alone, he gives Sherlock a chance to process and speak on his own time.

Mycroft follows suit, returning to writing on the paper. It seems there is a lot the older man wishes to write down.

Eventually, the dark-haired genius surprises both by signing, -You don't care.- slowly.

He watches the way Mycroft recoils, it's subtle. The older man's back straightening, eyes narrowing for just a flash, and head lifting. It's almost defiant as if refusing to back down, even when wrong. Yet, he tips his head as he studies the older man. It's no less a withdrawal than Sherlock curling into himself. It's nothing but a distraction that most people probably think of as arrogance. In a way they would be right, but not completely, because it's not completely arrogance, it's pain and refusal to accept it.

He arches one questioning eyebrow at the elder brother, waiting to see if Mycroft would answer or not.

-I do. I was mistaken in my behavior. That is now evident.- Mycroft states firmly, "I am sorry."

Sometimes he wishes he could hear just to hear tone, but the way the politician leans forward, eyes focused on Sherlock as he speaks says a lot.

Silence falls for them again while the two brother's think about what the other says.

Eventually Sherlock starts writing on his paper. Quite a bit actually, according to the way the pen is flying. When the younger man is done, Sherlock thrusts the paper towards him, ducking his head and not looking at anyone as he does so.

-Pass this to your brother or read aloud?- he asks the younger genius gently, not looking directly at Sherlock's face but still watching him.

Several minutes pass while the younger man considers that before finally nodding, -Read.-

He nods in response, settling the notebook on his lap so he can sign as he reads it. –I don't believe you. You're too smart to make a mistake like that. That means I must be the problem. You must not care. Never cared. You only feel bad because this makes you look bad. I should be dead. You want me dead. Gone. Never wanted a brother. I thought that as a child. Still think that. Why do you hate me?-

He glances between the brothers and the paper as he speaks, watching their reactions. Sherlock is expecting Mycroft to lash out, attack him, something. Mycroft on the other hand is staring at Sherlock in open disbelief and horror. All the emotions kept behind the mask plain to see as the words had shattered something.

"I don't hate you," Mycroft declares in shock, both aloud and with sign language. –Even when you make me angry, I've never hated you. I can make a mistake like that. Apparently too easily. I care, Sherlock, I always have.-

Sherlock is on his feet and bolting before his brother has finished speaking.

Mycroft stands, planning on following according to his expression, only he holds his hand up to stop him.

-Not yet, let me go speak with him, right now you would just make things worse. He needs time to process.- He tells the older man with a small shake of his head.

Stormy eyes focus on him before the older man nods tensely.

-Perhaps you should consider why Sherlock would feel that way, write it out, put it aside, and come back to it later to see if you have anything else to add to it.- he suggests gently.

Mycroft nods again, slowly turning and returning to his desk.

He stands, leaving the room, since he saw the entire downstairs, the bedrooms must be upstairs.

-He's in there,- Jim tells him, motioning to a door, -Can you make out a cello? He wanted to play for you.-

He nods, -Thank you, and as long as it's not thick carpet I can,- he replies.

-I wrap on the door twice to let him know it's me,- the agent tells him, -Not hard, just enough to let him know I am here, I slipped in already to check on him, he's currently in the corner between bed and dresser.-

Again he nods and thanks the agent before closing the distance to the door, he'll knock and see if Sherlock responds.

* * *

There's a bit of an update to my updating schedule, it won't affect this story, but it affects the rest of them. Since reviews have dropped since I went on a regular schedule, I am going to switch back to updating as I get things done and have focus instead. However I also plan to try and complete each story, or as complete as I possibly can without feedback before I begin posting. Once I get the story ready, when it would have originally be updated on the schedule is when I will update it. I still won't be doing more than two stories any given day, disregarding tumblr prompts.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

*waves* hi folks, so here is that chapter I originally intended for number 24 before the muses & the ma situation happened leading to the other two chapters. Thank you to everyone who wished ma well and has had patients as I deal with everything here lately


	27. Cello

June 26th, 2005  
John's POV  
Sherlock doesn't immediately answer the door, so he debates about whether to open the door on his own again. Eventually he decides to because he would like to check on Sherlock. So he taps softly at the door a second time. Carefully he opens the door, peering into the room to see where the younger man is. When he spots Sherlock, he steps in the room, shutting the door behind him and walking over to where the younger man is seated. He folds himself, sitting cross-legged on the floor before him.

Several minutes pass in quiet as the two of them sit there in the same sort of companionable silence as the often do. He can wait as long as needed for Sherlock to feel comfortable once more.

-Why stay?- the young genius asks hesitantly, unfolding himself enough just enough to use his hands.

He smiles, replying calmly, -Why not? If you want I can go, otherwise, Jim said you wished to show me how well you play the cello.-

Sherlock watches him for several minutes evaluating him the same way the genius has on several other occasions. Like each of those occasions, he waits patiently for the younger man to make up his mind, not doing anything that might affect the choice.

Instead he spends the time reviewing that conversation in the study. Both brothers walked away from it in pain. Different types of pain but still pain. Hopefully it will be the first step towards healing, rather than a wedge that drives them further apart. In order to drain a wound, no matter the type, it first must be lanced. That's what today was, them lancing the wound to begin the draining process.

-I want to,- Sherlock eventually answers, head still ducked down, body curled in on itself.

-Great,- he happily states. Tipping his head, he inquires, -Do you have a spot you want to sit so you can play?-

Several more minutes pass before the younger man answers, -My desk?- there is hesitation in the answer, as if Sherlock is unsure of himself.

-The desk?- he repeats, -I can do that. Would you like me to move now or in a few minutes? We have all the time you need.-

Wrapping his arms around his knees, the younger man doesn't reply immediately. Instead he seems to be having a debate with himself. Eventually the genius unfolds himself again, answering, -Now. –

He nods, carefully getting to his feet and moving to desk to pull the chair out and settle on it. He turns so he is facing the room at large, rather than Sherlock directly, making sure not to put any pressure on his companion. Sherlock has to do this on his terms, and his terms only. So he takes his time glancing around, looking at all the different things in the room and getting to know Sherlock further by doing so.

This room is a contradiction, he thinks, it is both the room of a child and adult, almost as if the two sides are at war with each other for some reason. There are certain parts that make him think that this room was not set up by Sherlock, but things Sherlock kept because he liked them. That means Mycroft is probably the one who set it up. Was the elder brother trying to make a safe place for Sherlock where he could be different or is there another reason why it is the way it is? The university books, sheets of music, and good laptop that would never be given to a child.

Eventually Sherlock gets to his feet, heading over to the instrument cases and taking a beautiful cello out.

He still doesn't look directly at the younger man as he sets up to play.

When the first vibrations run through his system, he smiles, turning towards the younger man to pay attention to the melody as it is played. It's not one that he knows, but judging by the blank music paper, Sherlock probably writes his own, so that is not shocking. He watches as the young genius loses himself in the music, body swaying softly in time.

Closing his eyes, he simply enjoys the way the music feels, not paying any attention to time as Sherlock plays for him. His eyes only open again when the vibrations from the music finally stop, and he opens his eyes to find Jim standing just inside the door.

-Dinner is done, if you want to come to the dining room, otherwise I'll ask the cook to bring food in here.- the gent tells Sherlock with a small smile on his lips.

Glancing over at him, the younger genius tilts his head questioning. Almost as if asking his opinion.

-Either way is fine for me,- he answers the unspoken question. –It would probably be better to eat together, however I can understand why you might not want to.-

Biting his lip, Sherlock seems to think about it for several minutes while the agent just waits patiently for a response, body relaxed as if ready to wait as long as needed.

-We'll be down,- Sherlock eventually decides. –Jasper?-

Smiling widely, Jim nods, -He's here, we've been visiting.-

There is a thrum of excitement in the younger man's expression as he smiles, -Annoy Mycroft?-

Mischief fills the psychopath's expression as he smirks, -without a doubt.-

He chuckles at the exchange, finding the two of them amusing. Well, lashing out is part of the healing process, though maybe not one of the best parts of it. Dinner will definitely be an interesting event, he thinks as he stands up and stretches. Four geniuses and him, definitely going to be an interesting meal.

* * *

There's a bit of an update to my updating schedule, it won't affect this story, but it affects the rest of them. Since reviews have dropped since I went on a regular schedule, I am going to switch back to updating as I get things done and have focus instead. However I also plan to try and complete each story, or as complete as I possibly can without feedback before I begin posting. Once I get the story ready, when it would have originally be updated on the schedule is when I will update it. I still won't be doing more than two stories any given day, disregarding tumblr prompts.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

So I just realized I forgot to upload last weeks chapter on here, so here is last weeks and this weeks back to back. There is also a short for my Unexplained Johniarty verse and a Pack Verse update as well. Enjoy!


	28. Five for Dinner

First off let me preface this with: this is _not_ how I expected this chapter to go. Secondly, thank you to everyone who has wished ma well, she is recovering, though not as quickly as she could because she keeps acting silly. Hope you all enjoy!

 **Warnings** : implied/referenced drug addiction

* * *

June 26th, 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
He watches closely as he plays for John, relaxing with every note that his doctor and friend seems to appreciate. By the time his minder slips in the room, he feels a lot better. Better than he has in months actually.

How is that even remotely possible?

Not questioning it, not right now anyways. Right now is dinner time He knows that even before he turns towards Jim, arching a questioning eyebrow.

There is a playful smirk at the edge of the smaller genius' lips as he states, -Dinner is done, if you want to come to the dining room, otherwise I'll ask the cook to bring food in here.-

Turning to face John, he tips his head towards the agent, silently inquiring if his friend wants to go to dinner with his brother and his minder.

John smiles at him, answering, -Either way is fine for me,- Tilting his head, the doctor continues, –It would probably be better to eat together, however I can understand why you might not want to.-

He's surprised by the fact John means it. Chewing on his lower lip, he considers it for a bit. He wants to spend time with John. He doesn't want to deal with his brother. He wants to see Jim and Jasper interacting. He wants to see Jasper making Mycroft uncomfortable. He doesn't want to actually take part of the conversation. He wants to watch it. Can he do that? A quick glance between the spy and doctor reassures him that he can. They'll let him and make sure Mycroft doesn't push too much.

He eventually decides, answering slowly, -We'll be down,-. Curiously he asks,–Jasper?-

Jim nods, his smile a lot like a sharks, -He's here, we've been visiting.-

If Jasper is here does that mean Mycroft is the target of the evenings picking on? Will he get a chance to see his brother outwitted? –Annoy Mycroft?- he asks hesitantly.

The agents smirk is pure mischief as he nods slowly one more time, rolling his head a lot like a lizard as he answers, -Without a doubt.-

John just shakes his head, a small fond smile playing at the edge of his lips. –I'm in for an interesting meal, aren't I?- the doctor inquires with a huff of laughter.

Still smirking, the psychopath answers, -Without a doubt,- before leaving the room.

He happily glances at John, excitement bubbling because this might actually be fun. When was last time he could call a dinner with his brother fun? Mostly they are just stressful. He always feels like he is doing something wrong, even when all he is doing is trying to eat. It makes eating harder than it already is, particularly since most the foods Mycroft enjoys he can't stand.

-Ready?- John asks as he stands.

Nodding, he waits for the doctor to step up next to him before they leave his room to head towards the dining room.

When they get there, Mycroft is already in his customary seat. To an outsider, his brother probably looks calm and collected but he can see a myriad of different tells that say otherwise. That's rather interesting. They haven't even started the meal yet his brother is already showing signs of being bothered?

-Hello Jasper,- John greets the second agent, shaking hands with Pike as the spy stands.

-Good afternoon, John, Sherlock. I hope I am not intruding?- Jasper replies with smile shortly following.

-I'm not bothered,- his friend replies as John takes the seat next to him.

He just smiles, ducking his head and watching as the events continue to unfold. They've only been in the same room for two minutes and things are already better than expected.

Almost as soon as they sit down, Miranda comes bustling in with drinks for all of them, a warm smile on her face. Stopping next to John, she pulls a piece of paper out of her pocket to set next to him after she is done handing out the drinks. The doctor smiles in response, nodding in agreement at whatever is in the note.

He wants to ask what it is, or even figure it out on his own, but his mind keeps drawing a blank as he watches the interaction.

A slight tap against the table draws his attention to Jim who remarks, -Brain tricks.-

Blinking, it takes him a minute to understand before he slowly nods. Yes, that explains why it is taking him so long to comprehend things that should be easy. Turning his attention back to John, he is mildly surprised when the doctor passes the note his way. It's a thank you note, for the fact his friend is there to be supportive since it's above and beyond what most doctors would do. Only John's not only his doctor, he is pretty sure that the blonde is also his friend. That's a good thing right?

He gives the doctor a questioning look, hoping that John will understand without him having to actually say anything.

-Yes, we're friends,- the blonde replies to the questioning look.

Ducking his head again, he smiles at his cup.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as the two spies have a rapid fire conversation in sign language, but it isn't one he knows. Actually, he lifts his head up to watch a little closer, it's probably not one anyone but them knows. It seems to consist of signs from BSL, ASL, and ones they made. At least as far as he can tell from what he is seeing.

He's almost startled when Jasper address him without looking directly at him, -You play the cello very well.-

Blushing, he is considering answering when Miranda comes bustling back in with a cart full of food.

John immediately stands, offering to help with a quick motion towards the plates.

She shakes her head, nodding to his chair.

Sinking back down in the chair, John nods and waits patiently for his meal, thanking the cook when she sets it in front of him.

She seems to prefer to do things in her pace and way,- his minder remarks with a small smile.

-There is nothing wrong with that,- the doctor responds with a slight nod. –It smells good.-

-Miranda is a good cook,- he slowly states, not actually looking at anyone in particular.

John smiles in his general direction encouragingly without actually looking directly at his face, something he appreciates because it makes it feel like there is less pressure to respond.

Glancing at his brother, he realizes that Mycroft is watching with a combination of curiosity and distrust, with just a touch of distaste thrown into the mix. That's an interesting combination. As the meal progresses he continues to pay attention to the conversation going on, most of which is between Jasper and John. Sometimes comments are directed towards his brother or open for anyone to answer. When he does answer, all four give him plenty of time to think and comment, none showing any signs of impatience with him. He watched as his brother played the part of the politician more than anything, particularly when Jasper or Jim would direct a comment to him.

Still, something seems different, not just with the company, but with his brother's behavior. It's not normal Mycroft behavior. At least it is seems different. Calmer, warmer, not as distant. His brother is trying, but he doesn't understand why. Why is the biggest question of them all.

Almost too quickly it becomes too much, and he finds himself staring at the table, eyes glazing as he tries not to notice the other four in the room, and the occasional popping in by their cook to check in on them. Thankfully none of them are actually talking aloud, which is a good thing, but the fluttering of their hands is almost too much too.

Why? He wants to know. Why does this have to be too much? None of them are trying to force him to talk. None of them are being loud or too fast. There is no reason he can determine why it's too much. Only that it really is. Part of him wants the seven percent solution that can make his mind quiet quickly. Yet he knows if he tries all of the progress he has been making, and his one small friendship that he desires to keep so it could possibly become something more.

When he realizes he's closed his eyes and opens them, he's mildly shocked to see the only one still in the room is John. The rest have left. His friend and doctor is sitting beside him calmly, simply waiting without seeming to be impatient.

-Feel better?- John asks with a tip of his head.

He nods slowly, taking count of himself and realizing that he really does. ?

It's been a stressful day.

* * *

There's a bit of an update to my updating schedule, it won't affect this story, but it affects the rest of them. Since reviews have dropped since I went on a regular schedule, I am going to switch back to updating as I get things done and have focus instead. However I also plan to try and complete each story, or as complete as I possibly can without feedback before I begin posting. Once I get the story ready, when it would have originally be updated on the schedule is when I will update it. I still won't be doing more than two stories any given day, disregarding tumblr prompts.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	29. Making Progress: 2SF, 1SB

Making Progress: Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

June 26th, 2005  
John's POV  
While he spends most of dinner speaking with Jasper, and occasionally the other three, he pays close attention to Sherlock. He knows that having so many people in one small area might be a bit much for the young genius. Sure enough just after the main course of the meal, Sherlock's eyes start to get that spooked expression as if he is terrified of something just before they squeeze shut and his head ducks down.

-Go away,- he orders, not bothering to look at the other three to make sure they listen.

Jim and Jasper stand first, causing a slight vibration on the wooden floor, with Mycroft standing a moment later.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see how the elder brother pauses for a moment, hands lifting as if he is going to say something only to drop back down to his sides before Mycroft exits the room behind the two spies.

Turning his attention back to Sherlock, he starts reviewing how today has gone while he waits calmly for the younger man to be able to come back to himself. Today has been a success, he decides when he has finished going over stuff, a huge success. Two steps forward, one step back, still progress. Besides, healing takes time and energy. It's not been that long, and even with his intelligence, or maybe because of his intelligence, Sherlock has a higher chance of relapse into less healthy habits.

When the dark-haired genius finally opens his eyes, they are scared and hesitant. Fear and confusion seem to be the strongest of emotions in them.

He smiles warmly when Sherlock finally looks at him, asking, -Feel better?- without looking directly at his patient's face. No reason to make the younger man feel put on the spot to answer.

Several minutes pass between when he asks and when the black-haired genius slowly nods, a startled and relieved smile tugging at the corner of Sherlock's lips.

His smile widens, -That's good, really good.- Tipping his head to the side he studies the younger man before inquiring, -Do you know what overwhelmed you?-

A few more minutes pass as Sherlock thinks about the answer before shaking his head no. Worrying his lower lip, the younger man keeps thinking about it according to his expression.

-Too many whys.- the young genius eventually comments.

He nods in understanding. That can be a difficult question for anyone. For someone with as active as a mind as Sherlock has, that question is probably hell when he is not in a good headspace.

-Would you like to make a list of whys and I can ask them?- he offers kindly, knowing sometimes help like that is needed.

Again, Sherlock takes some time to think about the question before he nods slowly.

-Use some of my paper or go up to your room and use your own?- he asks as he pulls the small notepad out from earlier to offer the younger man.

The dark-haired genius takes the writing supplies and slowly starts writing.

For a while they sit there in companionable silence as Sherlock writes out his list of whys. He can tell by the way the younger man gets tenser that asking the questions is hard. Yet when the dark-haired genius sets the pen down and offers the notepad back, there is a hesitant expression of hope in Sherlock's vibrant eyes.

Accepting the paper, he reads over them, smiling at the fact Sherlock wrote who each of the whys are for next to them. That will make it easier. Actually, he will type these up and print them off so there will be room for writing notes as he asks the questions. Tonight would not be a good time to ask them, too much has already happened.

-If you think of any more whys. Go ahead and write them down to give me later.- He suggests with a smile. –These are all really good questions.-

Sherlock nods in agreement, relief evident in the way he relaxes slightly.

-Now shall we call the others back for dessert or consider this meal done?- he asks with a tilt of his head, watching the younger man.

Several minutes pass again before Sherlock tentatively smirks, -Dessert.-

-Perfect, I'll fetch them,- he replies, wondering what the smirk is about. He's sure he's about to find out.

* * *

There's a bit of an update to my updating schedule, it won't affect this story, but it affects the rest of them. Since reviews have dropped since I went on a regular schedule, I am going to switch back to updating as I get things done and have focus instead. However I also plan to try and complete each story, or as complete as I possibly can without feedback before I begin posting. Once I get the story ready, when it would have originally be updated on the schedule is when I will update it. I still won't be doing more than two stories any given day, disregarding tumblr prompts.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	30. Dessert

June 26th, 2005

Sherlock's POV  
While John tells the other three they can come back in the dining room, he thinks about what caused that reaction and why he felt that way. They weren't being too loud, all of them were silent, and hand movements quiet without using their voices. Yet it had been too much for him. Too many whys and questions he can't seem to get answered because he doesn't know how to ask.

Writing out all the questions felt good. Knowing that his brother would get them, and that John would try to make sure that his brother answers them felt even better.

He's still lost in thought when the four return to the room, taking their seats again.

Less than a minute later Miranda comes in with the dessert. She puts a smaller piece of fresh lemon meringue pie in front of him, and a larger piece in front of John since he knows his friend likes pie. It's something they have shared at dinner twice already and discussed the last time they saw each other.

Well, they sort of discussed it. He wrote out all the types of pie and baked goods he likes. John put check marks next to the ones he knows, x's next to the ones he can make, and question marks next to the ones he plans to learn eventually.

Jim and Jasper both get pieces of homemade, moist and fluffy Death by Chocolate cake.

Mycroft got a piece too, but it was a lot smaller than either of the spies.

-What sort of chocolate is that?- John asks, motioning to the cake.

-Death by Chocolate, and perfect too,- Jim answers.

-German chocolate cake, dark chocolate cream cheese frosting with fudge and white chocolate bits drizzled with milk chocolate syrup,- Jasper responds at nearly the same time.

-Nice, sounds like a sugar rush,- the doctor comments as he eyes the cake. –I like this pie, it's really good.-

In his seat, Mycroft is actively not looking at anyone else as he picks at his smaller piece of cake. He knows that his brother would have a bigger piece but the doctor at his last visit had told him to cut back on sweets or he was going to lose them completely.

His brother isn't diabetic yet, but he's well on the way to it. The sad part is, it's probably his fault in some way. Everything is always his fault. His family has made that abundantly clear on multiple-

A tap on his arm draws him out of his mind, he glances over startled to see Jasper sitting beside him when earlier that spot had been empty and the glasses wearing spy had been across from him.

-Whatever your mind is telling you right now is untrue. I'm sure that it has to do with our annoying relative, that doesn't make it real.- Jasper informs him with a serious expression. –How's the pie? It looks good. Almost as good as this cake.-

-Pie's better,- he replies absently, thinking about that comment stating they are related. –Related?-

-Cousins,- Pike replies, waving a lazy hand towards his brother before continuing, -He assumed that I adopted the name, when really it's been me all along.-

Blinking, he tries to remember if there is anyone in his family named Jasper and all he can think of is a cousin who vanished when he was a child, but that had been years ago. Actually, that cousin and his parents had all vanished at the same time. The parents had turned up later dead, but not his cousin. It was assumed that he had died in the storm they had been caught in and the body never found since there was six others who had never been found either.

-My parents died in that storm. I pulled a vanishing act. It would be a few years before Mycroft caught up and recruited me.- his apparent cousin states.

Studying the slender, dark-haired agent he can easily see the resemblance, but then, there is one between him and Jim too. He's pretty sure he's not related to the psychopath. Turning towards his minder he tips his head to the side in question, trying to decide if there is any relation or not.

-Not. I'm blissfully related to no one except who I choose to associate with.- Wildcard answers the unspoken question. –I obey just as few. Much to our supervisors annoyance.- there is mischief in the smirk that accompanies that statement.-I should get the cooks recipe for this. Not that I will make it, but I know a few other cooks and I can have them make it for me later down the line.-

A glance at his brother reveals that Mycroft is paying close attention, even if he is refusing to look at anyone in particular and staring at his cake with rather narrow eyes. Must be processing that cousins comment.

While a glance at John reveals that his friend is merely paying attention to the conversation.

-The pie is very good,- John remarks after a lull in their conversation. –Though that cake looks good too.- Smiling, his friend comments, -A second piece would be nice. Would your cook be alright with me stepping in the kitchen to request one?-

-I can get it,- Jim offers, rising from his seat.

-Nope, I don't trust you'd not do something to make the night 'interesting'.- the doctor retorts calmly.

Jasper snickers as he stands and returns to his original spot to work on his cake some more.

Mycroft tries to hide a smile by ducking his head down further, it doesn't really work because he is the tallest one in the room currently and even sitting he's just a little taller than the rest of them, making the angle wrong for what he is trying.

Jim acts like he's offended, but his eyes give a totally different story.

Getting to his feet, John heads into the kitchen with his plate.

While the doctor is in the other room the two spies start discussing the different types of baked treats and debating which is the best type and flavor. It seems to be a conversation they've had before yet it is probably a bit different since it is done in sign language. Though he keeps noticing the quick hand signs he doesn't know, ones that do not belong to any version he knows and it makes him wonder what it is.

Is that something he could add to his list of questions? Do they have to be why questions or can they be other types? He should ask John when he is alone with the doctor again. Mostly he'll ask then because he doesn't want to ask in front of three other geniuses, though John has his own sort of genius. It's different than theirs but no less real.

It seems to take forever when really it's only three minutes between when John leaves the room and when gets back. Seeing what the conversation is, the doctor quickly joins in, having his own views on what sort of treats are best. Only Mycroft stays out.

The vindictive side of his nature is happy with that, just like he is happy that his brother has to limit how much of his favorite treats he can have. If he's to be blamed for this, then at least he can take pleasure in the fact it annoys his brother.

Actually, he should really enjoy his pie, and maybe even get a piece of cake just to rub it in Mycroft's face that he can eat as much of it as he wants. Even if he knows he probably won't eat anything big for the next day or two if he does so. Still, dessert is by far the best meal and he wants to enjoy it.

* * *

There's a bit of an update to my updating schedule, it won't affect this story, but it affects the rest of them. Since reviews have dropped since I went on a regular schedule, I am going to switch back to updating as I get things done and have focus instead. However I also plan to try and complete each story, or as complete as I possibly can without feedback before I begin posting. Once I get the story ready, when it would have originally be updated on the schedule is when I will update it. I still won't be doing more than two stories any given day, disregarding tumblr prompts.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	31. To Wednesday Morning

So I typed this chapter, and then it got deleted, so I retyped it and it came out very differently round two. I apologize for this being a day late, life's been a bit crazy lately

* * *

June 29th, 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
Following dinner and dessert on Sunday he had spent several hours playing his violin in his room as he considered his brother's reactions to everything. It still seemed like too much. All of his brother's reactions and behavior confused him.

Monday had been spent with him rearranging the lab how he likes it. Part of him had wanted to start a project or two but he had a meeting with John that afternoon and knew that he probably would if he got lost in an experiment. Jim paced as he did so, looking at everything and occasionally making a comment on his choice. His visit with John had been peaceful. They hadn't spoken, just sat there in companionable silence while John worked. He wrote out a few more questions for his friend to ask his brother.

Tuesday had been spent in the lab with Jim. He had been surprised at exactly how comfortable the psychopath was in a lab and mixing chemicals until he remembered some of what Jim had told him about his activities prior to joining MI5. So it made sense that he'd be so at ease with things that could easily be deadly.

Just before six am Jasper had showed up at the flat, dressed casually compared to his brother or Jim. A few minutes later the psychopath walks out of the flat with a cold look in his eyes that makes a shiver run down his spine.

-Why?- he asks with a glance towards the door.

-Something needs done that the Wildcard is perfect for.- his cousin answers with a small smile. –You've got me for the next three days. While I am calmer, I am quite sure I am not dull. Any interest in computers?-

He tilts his head thoughtfully, thinking about that question. While he uses the computer to look up stuff, and he can do some rough hacking, detailed hacking has never been one of his interests. He likes things that are hands on. That's a large part of why he enjoys science so much, its hands on and requires focus. Experiments give him something to focus on, something to turn his mind towards, even if it's not enough to make him feel better most the time, it's enough to slow things down.

-Not really,- he eventually answers slowly.

Smiling, Jasper nods, -That's alright. Computers are my forte, explosions and chemicals are Jims. However I also like to tinker. Would you like to work in the lab for a bit? Have you had breakfast yet? I know I haven't but I don't eat a lot.-

It's almost too much too quickly, and he takes a step back, closing his eyes and trying to focus on just breathing.

Instantly the spy goes silent, body becoming still.

He feels the change and his eyes open to look at the other dark-haired man. His eyes go over Pike, taking in exactly how still he is, almost as if Jasper isn't breathing. How is the agent being so still? His focus narrows in on the agent as he tries to figure it out and he realizes that he went from feeling overwhelmed to not. It's the first time it's happened like that. Normally it takes longer and other people bother him. Well, most other people, he found John is very relaxing and able to easily draw him from an overload.

-Breakfast? Do you eat breakfast? I probably should have checked with Jim but,- Jasper shrugs with a small smile. -I had a couple other things I was focusing on. Figured you know your own patterns and routines. I'm just the extra hands if needed. Also figured you'd prefer a friend to a sitter if given the choice.-

-No.- he answer the breakfast question, figuring that the spy will get the point.

Nodding, Jasper comments, -Alright, it's before seven am. Lab, reading, alone time?-

Opening his mouth he tries to answer aloud, only tightness in his throat keeps him being able to. Instead he signs, -Reading,- before turning on his heel and heading towards the library area.

The agent quickly falls in beside him, perfectly silent with every step, only the slightly fabric rustling telling him the other man is walking besides the fact he can see Jasper from the corner of his eyes.

When they reach the library, he grabs the book that he had been reading the other day while Jasper starts scanning pretty much everything, moving around with a lazy ease. While he reads, the spy takes his time looking around before grabbing a book and sprawling in one of the other chairs.

It's a quiet morning.

Like with John, Jasper doesn't seem to care if he speaks or not, and is comfortable with them just sitting there in silence. It's nice, different than what he is used to. When Jim is with him, the agent can barely hold still and often leaves him alone in the room to move about the flat. There have been plenty of times that he has heard Jim, though he is sure it is intentional because he is quite sure the spy knows how to be quiet. It's definitely something to think about later. Right now he is just going to enjoy the silence and a second person who doesn't seem to mind it.

* * *

There's a bit of an update to my updating schedule, it won't affect this story, but it affects the rest of them. Since reviews have dropped since I went on a regular schedule, I am going to switch back to updating as I get things done and have focus instead. However I also plan to try and complete each story, or as complete as I possibly can without feedback before I begin posting. Once I get the story ready, when it would have originally be updated on the schedule is when I will update it. I still won't be doing more than two stories any given day, disregarding tumblr prompts.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	32. Check Up (III)

Few hours later but here it is! Looky it's a Check Up chapter, so it has now been three weeks since Sherlock started seeing John, they are slowly figuring things out. This has been a bad week, so I am happy that it came out as well as it did, I hope everyone enjoys!

* * *

June 29th, 2005  
Mycroft's POV  
This is the third time he is seeing the doctor to discuss his brother, and the first time he is going in the doctor for himself. He hasn't yet decided whether he is actually ready to discuss himself or not yet. Years of stay quiet tell him it is not a good idea, yet it is something he feels he needs to do at some point and time. Besides, psych has been trying to get him to come in for years.

Thankfully the doctor is willing to work with his schedule, in this case seeing him at seven am rather than during normal business hours.

When he reaches the bottom of the stairwell on his way to the kitchen for his coffee before he leaves for the day, he spots the two spies talking just inside the front door before Moriarty leaves and Gray stays.

"Morning," Jasper murmurs as he bypasses him and heads upstairs to the bedrooms.

Why is the hacker here? He wonders as he collects the coffee and breakfast pie that Miranda made him. Why did the psychopath leave?

His mind quickly plays through all the current issues between MI5 and MI6, coming up with just one answer, a mob that has a base here and other bases elsewhere. That particular group has ties to several terrorist organizations around the world and is a threat to national security but the two agencies have been arguing about whose job it is to deal with them. Both Pike and Wildcard belong to both.

A small smile ghosts over his lips as he understands the hackers logic of using themselves. Now why have Moriarty do whatever is happening instead of doing it himself? Well, Moriarty does have more field experience. More than that, the psychopath used to work with the terrorist organizations before being recruited and sometimes still does at the request of whichever branch needs to pass information along.

That would make Moriarty the better choice for this, he thinks.

Anna is waiting for him inside the car, a file on her lap and eyes on her phone.

"There's a situation brewing between the departments that needs to be handled, the higher ups want you to do so." She comments after the door swings shut.

Blandly, he responds, "I believe Pike and Wildcard are taking care of it."

She nods, making a quick note on her phone before handing him a piece of paper.

His eyes quickly flicker over his schedule for the day, committing it to memory so the paper can be destroyed.

It's going to be a long day, he thinks as he glances out the window. The rest of the ride to the office is quiet, the only sound being her lightly tapping at her mobile. When they get there, she escorts him to the locked, but stays outside, returning to the car.

-Good morning Mycroft.- the doctor greets him after he steps in.

-Good morning, John,- he answers politely, eyes taking in the details, including the fact the doctor did not sleep much last night. Perhaps he should reschedule, he thinks.

-How are you this morning?- the doctor inquires as they walk to the office.

He takes the time it takes to settle into their seats to decide how to answer that. It never fails to surprise him that John actually means the question and isn't just asking to be polite. -I am worried about Sherlock. I will be leaving for at least five days because of an unavoidable work situation, and am concerned what will happen during that time.-

John thinks about that for a few minutes, sitting still as he does so. -Are you unsure of Sherlock's safety with Jim?-

He nods slowly, -That is part of it, currently Moriarty is away dealing with a situation and Gray is at the flat.- Seeing that the doctor is not exactly sure who he is talking about, he clarifies, -Jim and Jasper.-

Smiling ruefully, John nods in understanding, -Sorry, I deal with so many people, unless they are a patient or immediate family, I don't keep track of last names,-

It's his turn to nod in understanding. -Of course, forgive me for not thinking of that.-

-It's all right,- the doctor responds, -I can understand your leeriness regarding Jim. Psychopaths can be unpredictable at the best of times. Why are you leery of Jasper?-

-He thought it best to not correct my misassumption regarding his true identity.- he answers, still annoyed that he was honest and open with Sherlock but not him.

-Makes sense, trust issues,- there is a small smile, -I can understand those.-

Yes, John definitely can understand those, he thinks as he watches the doctor. He's seen the file and records, even considered erasing them or washing them since the doctor is treating himself and his brother. At this point he hasn't made any decisions on the matter.

-Is it something that can be rescheduled, or is it something that has already been rescheduled once and can't be a second time?- John asks after a few minutes of companionable silence.

-I have already rescheduled once, so it is not possible to do so a second time.- he responds with a sigh.

-Well, I don't know if it will make you feel any better, but I think that Sherlock is in perfectly safe hands between the two of them. Worse case, they manage to recruit him.- the blonde tells him with a small smile.

He blinks, he hadn't considered that a worse case situation. Actually, he hadn't considered that at all. Perhaps he should have. It's not ideal, but it would be useful and give his brother something to do so not to focus on his addiction.

-While not ideal, that is not actually a bad possibility,- he eventually comments.

-That's good.- John responds, -Besides this trip, is there some other reason you are concerned for your brother?-

Several minutes are spent thinking about that question before he replies, -He seems to have had several relapses lately.-

-Has he been using drugs?- the doctor asks seriously, sitting straighter in the chair, and eyes narrowing.

-No, Moriarty has been proficient in making sure that does not happen,- he quickly responds. -Perhaps i should say he has been overwhelmed several times instead, rather than having a relapse, even though i see them as being the same.-

-They're not though. A relapse is repeating the unhealthy behavior. Being overwhelmed is having his senses or mind sent into overdrive, making it too much for him process.- John explains calmly.

He absorbs that information, changing the way he considers the situation. The doctors at the rehab had said that they were one in the same, while John is saying otherwise. In this he is going to trust the doctor who is having the most success reaching his brother, and that means John.

-I will keep that in mind and under advisement,- he states, relieved over the differences.

-Excellent, now then, any other concerns regarding Sherlock?- John asks with a warm smile.

-How often should I expect him to be overwhelmed like that?- he queries, another thing that has concerned him. Though if the overloads are not part of the addiction in this case, they are a little less concerning.

-It's impossible to say, sometimes he will be bothered by something that otherwise wouldn't affect him, other times it will be something that causes a trigger and can be avoided. Triggers will need to be learned, to reduce their likelihood of occurring by avoidance and learning non-harmful coping mechanisms, the rest is day by day.- John answers, pausing before stating, -I did tell you there would be relapses and bad days. So far you have avoided any relapses with Jim's presence, however eventually you will have to trust Sherlock on his own, and that is when they are likely to occur. When they happen you can't act like all is lost or he is nothing but a failure, that will only make them worse.-

Again he takes the time to absorb that information, clearly remembering the conversation that the doctor is referring to. It will be hard to follow that advice, but he wishes to mend his relationship with his brother. That will not happen if Sherlock thinks he is being looked down on or judged harshly.

-Of course,- he agrees. When he feels his phone vibrate, he comments, -Excuse me,- in ASL as he pulls it out with the other hand and glances at the screen. He can't miss the call.

John nods at him, turning his attention to the computer and effectively giving him privacy.

Standing, he moves to the other side of the room, and answers the phone, quickly discussing the situation before hanging up. He will have to call this meeting to a close early.

-Forgive me, it appears I have to leave sooner than expected,- he tells the younger man, returning to right in front of the desk.

Rising, John nods in understanding, -Of course, I understand, would you like a copy of your brother's questions now, or would you like to wait until you return?-

Questions, oh yes, the doctor suggested that Sherlock write out questions for him on Saturday.

-I would appreciate the ones you currently have. That way I may consider them if I have time.-

John nods in agreement, opening a drawer on the desk and pulling a small file out that is offered to him. -These are the questions with space for you to write your replies or thoughts if you'd like. We can either discuss it together later or I can discuss your answers and then share them with Sherlock if you would prefer.-

-I will notify you of my answer after I have had a chance to read them,- he answers, accepting the file.

-Alright,- the doctor agrees, walking to the door and escorting him out. -Have a good trip, Mycroft.-

-Thank you, have a good day, Doctor Watson.- he responds politely, slipping through the door and to the waiting car.

He will read and consider the questions later, for now he has work to do.

* * *

There's a bit of an update to my updating schedule, it won't affect this story, but it affects the rest of them. Since reviews have dropped since I went on a regular schedule, I am going to switch back to updating as I get things done and have focus instead. However I also plan to try and complete each story, or as complete as I possibly can without feedback before I begin posting. Once I get the story ready, when it would have originally be updated on the schedule is when I will update it. I still won't be doing more than two stories any given day, disregarding tumblr prompts.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	33. Worrisome Why

July 12th, 2005  
Mycroft's POV  
Thirteen days, he thinks as he gets on the plane to take him back to London. It took thirteen days to deal with this situation because too many people apparently forgot how to think and use common sense. A lack of common sense is far too common, it really should be called uncommon sense. More than half of the situation could have been avoided with a little forethought. Of course, that didn't happen.

He had been right on schedule to get home when things had suddenly went pear shaped because two of the people there decided that the path selected wasn't good enough. The next three days had been spent trying to straighten the mess out, four more were spent re-negotiating, and the last was spent making sure no one was going to change their mind like that again.

Over all it had left him very frustrated and wanting to drop the whole lot of them in the antarctic without protective clothing.

Now he is on his way home, hopefully during his absence the two agents that are watching over his brother haven't decided to do anything foolish. While Gray has been updating him with periodic emails, Moriarty has not, and that makes him leery.

It's an eight hour flight back to London. He plans on using that time in order to review the questions that his brother wrote out and the doctor typed up. That shouldn't take too long. Then he can formulate answers for the questions and write them out. Once he is done with that he plans to take a small nap so he can be rested for his day. Perhaps he will make an appointment with the doctor for first thing in the morning, that way he can discuss how John thinks his brother did while he was away.

First though, the questions.

Pulling the folder out of his private binder, he flips it open, grabs a pen, and prepares to start answering questions. Instead he finds himself reading them several times, realizing anew exactly how badly he has messed up with Sherlock.

The primary question asked is why. More than half of the questions are variations of that single one. All of them tie into motive and reasoning. Things he thought were completely obvious but apparently were not to Sherlock. Normally his brother is not this slow.

Yet, is it really Sherlock being slow? As much as he hates to admit it, many of the questions tie directly into his behavior since leaving for university and starting his adult life. He had not wanted Sherlock in his life, so he had cut his little brother out. Now he is discovering exactly how much damage that did.

As he writes out his answers, he finds many of them are the same, even though the wording is slightly different.

He definitely wishes to discuss this with John before discussing them with Sherlock. Surely his brother does not doubt him this much. It has to be a mistake. They weren't that close as children. Why would his behavior have affected Sherlock so much?

His mind whirls with questions, distracting and unsettling him.

"Sir," his PA murmurs, drawing his attention from the file sitting on his lap.

Glancing up, he meets her worried expression with a bland one, arching a questioning eyebrow rather than speak.

"You should get some rest. It has been at least thirty-six hours since the last time you slept." She informs him softly with a small smile, "I've been told to take you home and not allow you to work for twenty-four hours at least."

He inclines his head, agreeing since he knows arguing with her won't do much good, she takes orders to keep him healthy very seriously.

"Please make arrangements for me to speak with Doctor Watson at his earliest convenience." He remarks, closing the file on his lap without another glance.

Why he seems to be the bases of nearly every question Sherlock has asked. That's unsurprising as it was his brother's favorite question as a child as well. More than that, if he bases everything said during the mediation with John through the lens of why, it makes so much more sense.

Perhaps he should take a few days to just spend with Sherlock. He has plenty of vacation time saved up as he never uses it. He never uses his sick time either, so he has that saved up as well. Perhaps it would be best if he took a more active role in his brother's healing process. These are all things he wishes to discuss with the doctor, along with how his brother did while he was gone. He trusts John's assessment of it to be far more accurate than anything Moriarty or Gray may report.

"Sir," she agrees quietly.

Closing his eyes, he decides to take her advice and rest. Soon enough he will have to deal with the questions, and more so, the answers. It would be best to be well rested and ready to deal with this as if it is one of the most important negotiations he might ever have to perform.

* * *

There's a bit of an update to my updating schedule, it won't affect this story, but it affects the rest of them. Since reviews have dropped since I went on a regular schedule, I am going to switch back to updating as I get things done and have focus instead. However I also plan to try and complete each story, or as complete as I possibly can without feedback before I begin posting. Once I get the story ready, when it would have originally be updated on the schedule is when I will update it. I still won't be doing more than two stories any given day, disregarding tumblr prompts.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	34. Check Up (IV)

July 13th, 2005  
John's POV  
For the last two weeks he has seen Sherlock close to daily. Most of the time is spent with them just quietly spending time together. He works on paperwork or reads while Sherlock reads, works on projects, or sits in quiet contemplation. Sometimes they meet at the office, sometimes they meet at Sherlock's flat, sometimes they meet elsewhere. Meals are spent together wherever they happen to be, either take out or from the cook, except for the first Sunday when he ended up leaving early because of a patient emergency.

Sherlock and Jasper go with him on his rounds the first Saturday Mycroft is gone, while Sherlock, Jim and Jasper go with him the second Saturday. He makes sure to add more breaks, which means it takes a bit longer but keeps his young friend from getting overloaded. Jasper even makes parts of it a game, giving Sherlock challenges to do in order to keep his mind occupied.

He's rather surprised when he gets a text message at six am asking for an appointment for the elder Holmes as soon as possible. He immediately agrees to seven am if that will work, or two pm if it will not. It feels like he has barely pressed send when he gets an agreement to seven am.

Stretching, he gets out of bed in order to get a quick breakfast and clean up. Once that is done, he heads downstairs to make tea and put it in his office, finishing getting ready with just a few minutes to spare. Considering Mycroft has a tendency to be early, that's probably a good thing.

Turning the monitor on his computer on and flipping to the outside cameras, he smiles as he sees the black car pull up.

He makes his way to the door even as Mycroft gets out of the car, meeting the politician at the front door and letting the older man in.

-Hello Mycroft,- the doctor greets him warmly.

-Doctor Watson,- he replies with a nod.

Closing the door behind the taller man, he leads Mycroft to his office and the waiting pot of hot tea.

-Did you have a good trip?- he inquires, he is pretty sure that this meeting is about the questions, but he will let Mycroft bring them up, rather than bring them up himself.

-It was productive but longer than planned for due to unforeseen circumstances.- Mycroft answers, hand reaching in his pocket to pull what appears to be a folded piece of paper out. -I wish to discuss these.-

He nods, having already expected that. -What would you like to discuss?-

Several long minutes pass as the politician tries to figure out how to put what he is thinking into words. -I am having a difficult time comprehending how he feels.- Mycroft eventually states. -How is it even possible that Sherlock thinks that I hate him?- There is confusion in the older man's expression, if not in his motions.

He nods slowly, that is a very understandable question. The brothers have a very hard time communicating, and that leads to misconceptions on both ends. However he knows he cannot just tell them that, it wouldn't do any good, he has to let them work it out for himself. So how to approach this situation? Normally he would send them to a counselor, however he knows that both of them would not do well with one. Perhaps he should speak to the one on staff about ways to help them.

-I could probably explain, but I think you already know the answer, Mycroft.- he responds slowly, watching how the politician reacts.

Mycroft flinches, eyes closing as he takes a deep breath as if calming himself. When he opens his eyes again, the older man answers, -You are correct. I do, I just have a very hard time believing.-

He nods, not saying anything because he knows that Mycroft still has more to work through.

-How do I fix this?- the politician asks, -I am already following the advice given as much as possible, as work allows. Is there something more? I am considering taking a small vacation but I would need to have a set amount of time and I am unsure how much would be best.-

Smiling encouragingly at the older man, he nods once, -If you did, I would suggest at least fourteen days.-

Mycroft glances away, eyes losing focus as if he is lost in thought. -All right,- the politician agrees.

-You may wish to continue the discussion started before your trip.- he suggests, knowing that was already on the planner but thinking it might be a bit more important than Mycroft originally thought. -I would also suggest spending time just being with your brother. Right now every quiet between you makes him think he is doing something wrong. You need to be able to spend time with him in silence without it being judgmental.-

He meets the older man's gaze, trying to convey exactly how serious that suggestion is.

Again the politician agrees with a slow nod, -All right.-

-Do you have any other concerns about the questions?- he asks after they spend a few minutes in quiet, letting the older man process the information provided.

-No, the rest will need to be discussed with Sherlock.- Mycroft responds, -When will you be available for another mediator session?-

-Saturday afternoon or anytime Sunday,- he answers calmly, he could probably do it Friday but he wants to not be concerned about time.

-Sunday,- Mycroft immediately selects, -That will give me time to get all my work wrapped up so only extreme emergencies will require my attention.-

He nods in agreement, that is a good plan.

Hesitantly, the older man asks, -How has Sherlock been while I have been away?-

His smile turns to reassuring as he replies, -He's doing good, progress is slow but that is to be expected.-

Mycroft nods, relaxing ever so slightly as if that news makes him feel better.

They spend the rest of the visit in silent companionship. He is sure that Mycroft is reorganizing what he knows about his brother and their relationship. It's probably long overdue. Those two have worse communication skills than he has with his sister, and that's saying something since Harry never learned sign language.

Eventually, Mycroft is the one to call it to an end, standing and stating, -Thank you for your time, and the information for me to consider.-

He nods, -Of course, it's not going to be easy, but I am sure that you two can come to an understanding, maybe even develop a friendship in time.-

-I,- the politician begins, pausing with an uncertain expression, -I would like that.-

He sees the older man out, leaving the door unlocked as his staff starts coming in just minutes after.

* * *

There's a bit of an update to my updating schedule, it won't affect this story, but it affects the rest of them. Since reviews have dropped since I went on a regular schedule, I am going to switch back to updating as I get things done and have focus instead. However I also plan to try and complete each story, or as complete as I possibly can without feedback before I begin posting. Once I get the story ready, when it would have originally be updated on the schedule is when I will update it. I still won't be doing more than two stories any given day, disregarding tumblr prompts.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	35. Morning Interactions

July 13th, 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
He's sprawled in his bed, relaxing, mediating some would even call it when he gets a text message from his brother.

Mycroft is coming home. Today. After he speaks with John. A part of him wonders why Mycroft felt he had to speak with John first. He's been enjoying the time his brother has been away. Jim, Jasper, and John have kept him company and busy.

In the last fourteen days he has done more experiments and used his instruments more than he had in the previous year. For the first time in years he feels like someone wants him around. For the first time in memory he feels like someone actually cares what's happening in his life. He feels like someone cares about him. For the first time in his life he has a friend, a real friend, one who doesn't act like he's an obligation or bother.

He's confused about what he thinks of his brother. A part of him wants his brother to care about him. He wants his brother to want to be around him. Another part of him doesn't want anything to do with his brother, after for years his brother didn't want anything to do with him. He also wants answers. Mycroft, like Jim and Jasper, is nearly impossible to read. With his brother he has such a hard time understanding his motives. For years he thought he was slow because his brother had told him he was the stupid one. Now he wonders how much of that was his brother thinking of him as a burden. It's one of those questions he wants answers to. There is also a tiny part of him who wants his brother's acceptance and love. He doubts he will ever have it, but he still wants it.

A small part of him is excited his brother is coming home. Maybe he will get those answers. If he does it will probably be indirect. His brother will tell John or write them out for his doctor to give him. Another part is terrified for the exact same reason. He wants, no, needs those answers but it doesn't make them easy.

Hopping to his feet, he glances around the room, heads spinning almost like it's on a swivel.

He can feel the emotions and the fear building up. It's hard to stop when his mind starts whirling, and whirling it is doing right now. All those questions he asked on the paper, all the things he thinks in his head about his relationship with Mycroft. Everything going circle in his mind. A never ending loop of doubts and fear, worry and anger, anxiety building up and making his head pound.

Spotting his violin, he quickly grabs it, fitting it to his shoulder and playing, hoping it will calm him down. It works most the time. Here's to hoping it works this time.

He doesn't know how long he plays before his door silently swings open, but the agent opening it doesn't actually step in. -Good morning Sherlock,- Jasper tells him. -The cook wants to know if you want breakfast.-

Slowly he stops playing to set the bow down in order to answer in ALS, -No.-

Nodding once, his cousin remarks, -I'll tell her.- Tipping his head to the side, the agent comments, -You play a lot better than anyone I ever heard before. I almost envy your ability with instruments. I can't play. I figure you got that and science, I have computers and engineering.-

Jasper envy's his gift with the violin? His cousin has never acted like most the people who envy his talent. Is this a lie to make him feel better? He doesn't think so.

The agent tips his head to the side in the same manner that Jim does, and a soft huff of laughter escapes him as he thinks that Jasper must have learned that from Jim or vice versa. Immediately, he's startled because he doesn't laugh normally. He almost thinks he has to justify himself but doesn't because of the look on the agent's face. It's like the cat who caught the bird for lunch. That's a different sort of expression for the other genius.

-Would you like to learn some interesting self defense tricks?- Jasper asks him after a minute.

-Why?- he queries, he knows the basics of self defense, why would he need more? Biting his lip, he studies the hacker to determine motivation. Not for protection, as a way to blow off steam. Stress relief, some would call it. The protection aspects are just extras. -Okay.- he agrees after a few minutes thinking about it.

-Great, find Jim and I whenever you're ready,- his cousin tells him with a warm smile. -I'll make Jim play the villain. He has fun with that role.-

Another huff of laughter escapes him. It's very easy to believe that his minder would enjoy playing the villain. It goes well with the fact Jim's a psychopath, even if he's on the high functioning side because of his friendship with Jasper. Slowly he nods in agreement, reaching for the bow as he does so.

Jasper leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

Closing his eyes he goes back to playing, thinking about the offer as he does so. He's quite sure there are a lot of things those two could teach him. It's really nice to have someone offering to spend time with him, rather than seeing it as a chore. It does give him pause about John though, they are friends right? It's not just a work relationship? He'll ask, he's sure John will answer.

He doesn't pay attention to how much time passes between when he starts playing and when there is a firm knock at his door. Slowly lowering the bow, he stares at the door, ninety-three percent certain Mycroft is the one standing on the other side of it.

Setting the violin down, he slowly crosses the room to open the door, confirming that it is his brother standing on the other side.

-Good morning Sherlock,- his brother greets him, -Starting Saturday I am taking the next two weeks off, and it is my hope we will be able to spend time together and resolve some of our difficulties.-

He blinks, processing the words and feeling a sense of dread. This isn't going to go well. He's sure that he's going to be blamed in some way.

-I am going to go to bed for a little bit, it's been nearly forty hours since I last slept,- Mycroft comments, -After I wake up I hope we can share a meal.-

Hesitantly, he nods once, not sure if he is agreeing with the meal or the plan. If his brother's vacation starts Saturday, then what's going on today? He wonders, a small frown curving his lips.

Mycroft smiles at him, but it's that lukewarm politician's smile that does nothing for his nerves before his older brother turns and walks away.

He returns to playing for a little bit. When that does not bring him comfort, and the itch under his skin, in his mind starts to get to be a bit much, he goes to find the two agents. Only to discover Jim striding towards his room, eyes unreadable while the rest of his expression mimics annoyance. Despite his difficulties reading the psychopath in the past, he instinctively knows the annoyance is not about or for him. He just can't tell if it's for Mycroft or some other reason.

-Come join us for a bit,- Wildcard suggests, eyes lighting up as his expression smooths out.

-Doing?- he queries, wondering if Jim will give the same answer as Jasper.

-I know Jasper has invited you to learn some of our favorite tricks, but we can do something else if you'd prefer.- the agent answers with a lazy shrug.

-Fine,- he agrees, lips twitching because he had been going to speak with them anyways.

-Perfect,- Jim comments, pivoting and waiting for him to reach the psychopath before the two of them go to join Jasper.

He's curious to watch them more than anything. They have a very interesting dynamic, one that doesn't make sense with what he knows about people like Jim. Maybe it will be the perfect distraction from the thoughts running circles in his mind and the itch just beneath his skin.

* * *

There's a bit of an update to my updating schedule, it won't affect this story, but it affects the rest of them. Since reviews have dropped since I went on a regular schedule, I am going to switch back to updating as I get things done and have focus instead. However I also plan to try and complete each story, or as complete as I possibly can without feedback before I begin posting. Once I get the story ready, when it would have originally be updated on the schedule is when I will update it. I still won't be doing more than two stories any given day, disregarding tumblr prompts.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	36. Food for Thoguht

July 13th, 2005  
Mycroft's POV  
After he leaves his brother, he heads to his room, certain from Sherlock's reaction that he has misspoke in some manner. His brother hadn't said as much, but it is there in the way the younger man went still, even his breathing had slowed to the point where he could barely see Sherlock's chest moving. What did he say wrong? When did his brother go still? His mind quickly replays the short visit. It was following his statement regarding vacation and wishing to solve their difficulties.

Ah. his wording bothered his brother. How was he supposed to word it? Is he approaching this from the wrong angle? Communication with Sherlock is difficult because he is never sure how to speak with him. He makes his living using the ability read, speak, and manipulate people. That's the primary focus of his career. Yet he can't even manage to tell his younger brother he is taking a vacation and wants to solve some of their differences without it going wrong.

When he reaches is room, he's mildly surprised to see Pike leaning against the door frame fiddling with his glasses, an air of dangerous boredom surrounding the younger man.

"What do you want?" he asks, too tired to beat around the bush.

Slowly, almost like a cat measuring prey to pounce on, the younger man straightens up, hazel eyes meeting his, a predatory smile curving his lips.

"That's really rather simple. You need to act like a brother and not a politician." Pike replies condescendingly, "I realize that the concept is probably hard for you to wrap your oversized head around, but I don't really have the patience to explain it to you right now. Some reason I think you never were a good brother, but as you were the only one he had around, he thought you hung the moon. I've seen that plenty of times."

His eyes narrow on the agent as he thinks about what is being said, wanting to deny it but moderately certain the younger man is right. He does not appreciate the implication. Not one bit.

"If you need some examples of good siblings, I can direct you to several of my contacts," Jasper offers, tone switching from the harder tones of Pike, to the softer tones he's come to associate with his cousin off the clock.

For nearly a minute they just watch each other, both assessing and judging. He's moderately certain he is not being found in a favorable light. Not with the way the agent's eyes narrow before he nods curtly and walks away without saying thing else. He's now had both spies remark on his failed relationship with his brother. Neither of which are very approving for him.

Entering his room, he quickly scans the area, making sure neither spy left him a surprise then snorting at himself because he is fairly certain if they did, they wouldn't make it obvious and just a glance wouldn't spot it. Particularly Moriarty, he knows from reports that the Wildcard likes to be unpredictable with his attacks, often vicious, sometimes downright cruel.

He thinks about Jasper's words as he gets cleaned up to crawl in bed, thinks about Sherlock's reaction, thinks about John's advice, and comes to the decision that he doesn't actually have a clue as to go about fixing his relationship with his brother.

So how to go about doing something he doesn't have any idea how to do? It is apparent that research is called for. However he does not have a lot of time between now and Saturday. Glancing at his bed longingly, he debates about whether to miss his chance to nap or research. Of course, his thinking slows down when he gets to tired, which would not be useful for dealing with his brother or research. Well then: nap, work, research. Wait. He promised Sherlock a meal. So it will be: nap, meal, work, research. Perhaps he can have his PA gather some materials for him?

Only, when he lays down to take that nap, he finds himself staring at the ceiling in his room, wondering if he is even going to be able to succeed at this. Maybe he needs to change how he is thinking about it? So far he's been viewing it through the eyes of someone who often plays with words. Perhaps he should take a page from Sherlock's book and say nothing. How would they resolve their differences without speaking?

Well, how does Moriarty or Gray do it? Yes they use sign language, but that's not it. Yes and no questions, wait patiently for answers, reassuring with non-verbal cues such as nods and smiles, show active interest in his brother. Hmmmm. He can do all that. Some reason he's sure it's not going to be enough. Perhaps he should take Gray up on that offer, or speak with Doctor Watson to see if he has any suggestions for how they can build their relationship?

He could write Sherlock a letter, try to explain in a non-judgmental manner the answers to the questions given to Doctor Watson for him. How would he know if it's non-judgmental? He thought he was being non-judgmental earlier and he upset his brother again. Write the letter and have Gray check it? Surely the agent would be willing to inform him if he is being judgmental or not. Actually, he's sure both agents would be willing to. Something else to consider. His list of things to consider keeps growing it appears.

Closing his eyes, he tries to clear his mind, bring himself to balance and carefully sort through the information he has. If he can't sleep, he should meditate and form a plan for action. Mayhap he should sort through their formative years, see if there was any particular way he solved issues between them then? Of course, that's the last thing he thinks before he drifts off to sleep, wondering if he remembered to set an alarm.

* * *

There's a bit of an update to my updating schedule, it won't affect this story, but it affects the rest of them. Since reviews have dropped since I went on a regular schedule, I am going to switch back to updating as I get things done and have focus instead. However I also plan to try and complete each story, or as complete as I possibly can without feedback before I begin posting. Once I get the story ready, when it would have originally be updated on the schedule is when I will update it. I still won't be doing more than two stories any given day, disregarding tumblr prompts.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	37. Letters (Mycroft)

15th July 2005  
Mycroft's POV  
He had slept for a few hours, had a very awkward meal with his brother and then left for work. He hasn't left work since. He spent the last two days getting all the paperwork down and making arrangements to be away from work for two weeks. Anna helps as much as she can by doing proof reading of document and research for non-verbal communication that she has complied for him. He's always been good at reading people, so it is bothering him how horribly he has done with his brother.

You actually have to be there to read him, a traitorous part of his mind reminds him, you made it your life goal to avoid him from age ten on.

As much as he hates to admit it's the truth, he has to if he wants any hope of being there for Sherlock.

"Sir?" his PA comments, drawing his attention and making him realize that she has said it more than once.

"Yes?" he queries, still distracted.

"Everything you set out to complete before leaving for your vacation is done." She replies, holding the last packet for him to review one last time and sign.

"Thank you," he tells her, accepting the packet.

"Can I give you some advice?" She asks softly.

He nods, waiting to see what she has to say.

"Write your brother a series of letters. Start when he was born: what did you feel, what did you think. Work your way to where we are now. Don't try to mask the emotions, because that will just come across as insincere. Expect to be on the defensive but do not let it make you a bully." She smiles at him, "You're one of the smartest people I know, but sometimes you let your head get in the way. You can't do that with family."

Eyeing her curiously, he comments, "Sounds like you've had to deal with something similar on a personal level."

A huff of laughter escapes her, "I did, I have an older sister who had some issues because of our older brother. It was a rough time. Of course, I was ten when they were nineteen and twenty-three."

He nods again, accepting the advice and deciding to do just that. He had already considered writing one letter. How much harder could it be to write several?

"Thank you," he tells her with a small smile.

She nods, "I hope it works out for you and him."

"Me too," he replies, mind trying to flesh out what to say.

"When you're writing those letters to Sherlock, don't over think it. Just put the pen t paper and write," she tells him before turning to leave, "Do you need anything else before I go?"

"If you could have the service bring a fresh pot of tea that would be appreciated," he answers, pulling paper and pens out of his desk.

It's been a long time since he just wrote something without thinking it through multiple times. Start at Sherlock's birth and work his way to now? Communicate his thoughts and feelings without blaming his brother or making the letters seem judgmental? He can do this. It's no harder than trying to get four different countries who hate each other's diplomats to work together and think it's their choice. The only difference is he actually has a personal effect on this.

With that in mind, he sets to carefully writing out each letter.

The ones when he was a child are the fastest. He can so easily remember his confusion about why his parents wanted another child and the pleasure at the idea he'd be someone's brother. He can remember how long it took Sherlock to walk and talk. How so very slow his brother had been compared to him, at least that how it felt. That was the beginning of his pulling away from his brother.

His teenage years are harder. He resented Sherlock. As much as he wants to blame his brother, he can't if he is being honest. There was no logic behind his resentment. There was no reason for it at all. Their parents preferred praising him and criticizing his brother. Sherlock didn't skip as many years as he did. His brother wasn't a threat to his social standing. There's no good reason for how he felt, it's simply how he felt. Those feelings seemed to get worse when he decided on his major, and decided that his little brother was a liability, so he was going to cut Sherlock from his life.

After that, as he enters the late teens part of his life and his early years working, the letters get a lot harder. Now he has to repeatedly redo many of them in order to meet the directives he's been given. As he does so, he realizes exactly why Sherlock asked all of the questions he asked. Almost all of them related to the simple question of why.

Taking a deep breath, he glances at the clock and drops his pen in shock. He's been working on these letters for the last five hours. His pot of tea is empty and his back has a kink he just realized is there from sitting still so long.

There is only one letter left. The one explaining how he felt finding his brother dying, what it has been like watching this wraith that used to be a vibrant young man full of so much promise and potential, the hardest letter in the set. It's the one that needs to be written the most.

Standing, he stretches for a moment before calling the kitchen for more tea. He's determined not to go home until he has all the letters ready. So he has to write the last one no matter how much he wants to avoid having to discuss something that is such a sore topic for him. It's going to be difficult but he's going to do it anyways because at the end of the day, he wants Sherlock to get better and that doesn't happen if they can't resolve some of their difficulties.

Sitting back down, he grabs the pen and a blank sheet of paper. It's time to begin.

* * *

There's a bit of an update to my updating schedule, it won't affect this story, but it affects the rest of them. Since reviews have dropped since I went on a regular schedule, I am going to switch back to updating as I get things done and have focus instead. However I also plan to try and complete each story, or as complete as I possibly can without feedback before I begin posting. Once I get the story ready, when it would have originally be updated on the schedule is when I will update it. I still won't be doing more than two stories any given day, disregarding tumblr prompts.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	38. Letters (Sherlock)

16th July 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
When Mycroft doesn't come home for two days he figures his brother just decided to cancel the vacation because something more important than him came up at work. It wouldn't be the first time he was pushed aside for one reason or another. So he is very surprised when his brother comes home on Saturday morning, looking like he hasn't slept the two days he's been.

-Good morning, Sherlock,- his brother greets him. –I had a few final papers to complete before my vacation officially begun. Short of a nuclear crisis, Anna will handle things for the next two weeks.-

He blinks in shock. His brother actually did take the time off and was planning on being here with him? What's the odds of that? Something is surely going to distract his brother sooner than later. After all, he's never really been enough. Shaking his head, he tries to push those thoughts away, doesn't want to think about what lead them to this situation.

So he is very surprised when his brother holds out a large manila folder towards him.

-I took some advice and attempted to answer why. I thought you might like to read these before our discussion with Doctor Watson on tomorrow morning.- Mycroft comments after he takes it.

He glances between his brother and the folder now in his hand, trying to get a read on why his brother would do that. These are letter's he thinks, that's the only thing that makes sense. His brother wouldn't hand him a list, and it's too thick to just be answers written out. Although, with the way his brother can be sometimes, it could easily be just very long winded explanations and excuses.

-If you'd like, we can discuss them after I sleep a few hours?- his brother offers almost hesitantly.

Why would Mycroft be hesitant? He's probably not going to like what's in the letters, he thinks. Does he want to wait to read them until he can sit with John to do so? Maybe his friend would be able to help him deal with whatever is in them. Probably more blame for everything that's ever gone wrong in Mycroft's life. He could always read them by himself, or maybe with Jim or Jasper nearby?

He doesn't answer his brother as he turns and heads to his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

What to do with the letters? He wonders, tossing them on the bed so he can grab his violin and start playing.

He should wait to read them, he thinks as he starts on his favorite song currently. Better to read them with someone else there. He's pretty sure if he read them right now they'd be upsetting and for the first time in months he hasn't been considering how to get his next fix. Between John, Jim and Jasper, he's been pretty occupied. They give him space, but they also give him support and actually pay attention on the rare occasions he tries actively communicating. He still hasn't managed to talk, despite trying on several occasions only to feel like he was suffocating as he couldn't form the words.

At the same time, he really want to know what's in those letters _right now._

Finishing the song, he puts his violin away and walks over to his bed to simply stare at the folder full of letters or essay formatted. It wouldn't be that hard to just reach out and grab the folder, open it up and read them. It's not like his brother could have put anything in them he doesn't already know. For all he has a hard time reading his brother directly, he understands actions well enough and Mycroft have been those of dislike, disinterest, and disgust for years.

Play the violin, he tells himself, ignore the letters.

But answers, he thinks, maybe finally it'll stop hurting so much if I have answers.

No. Play the violin. He orders himself, willing himself to move away from the bed and the folder waiting for him. Instead he reaches out with a shaky hand to grab the folder.

Bad idea, he thinks as his fingers close around it. I shouldn't do this now.

That doesn't stop him from taking a seat in the corner, where Jim has found him on several occasions when he's overwhelmed.

Trying to force himself to stop shaking, he opens the folder and carefully looks over the letters, not yet reading them, only confirming that they are letters. He's startled to realize that while all of them were written in the last day or so, they start before his birth according to the dates written at the top and go all the way until now.

Where to start? He wonders, on the letters dated the oldest and work his way forward or on the letters dated the newest and work his way backwards?

Neither, he tells himself, put them up and walk away. Go find Jim. He's probably got something mischievous to do to keep your mind occupied. But there's answers in these letters. Finally. After wondering _why_ for so long he could know. At what cost though? It's not like it will change anything. Mycroft still doesn't give a damn about him. He's pretty sure John's friend. He's not sure at all what Jim and Jasper are. Maybe they're friends? Maybe not. It's hard to tell with the psychopath and his closest friend.

Biting his lip he drops all but the oldest dated one on the floor. Slowly he starts reading, eyes scanning over the words once, twice, three times. He's having a hard time believing that his brother was ever excited to have him around. Yet according to this, Mycroft had been, at least at one point, excited to have a little brother.

After the fourth read through, he sets it aside and grabs the next. Hesitant because he wonders if this is where his brother is going to start hating him but having to know. He reads through all of them with practically the same sort of fear and hope, trying to understand and having a hard time doing so. It wasn't something he actually did that caused this separation with his brother. it was gradual, over a period of years not months like it feels like for him.

He barely makes it through the last letter once, let alone the two or three times he has been reading them. It hurts too much. Reminding him how much of a failure and disappointment he is. How if he had been a better brother, if he had been good enough maybe he wouldn't have felt the need to turn to drugs to dull his mind.

Drugs. . . . cocaine. . . yes, he should go find some. No he shouldn't. John won't be happy if he does. Maybe he'll even stop being his friend. Probably will anyways, might as well be high when it happens. Leaving the letters on the floor, he stands, opening the window to his room and carefully leaving with years of experience sneaking out without being caught. The lure of peace, of an escape from the pain in his head almost too much to resist.

* * *

There's a bit of an update to my updating schedule, it won't affect this story, but it affects the rest of them. Since reviews have dropped since I went on a regular schedule, I am going to switch back to updating as I get things done and have focus instead. However I also plan to try and complete each story, or as complete as I possibly can without feedback before I begin posting. Once I get the story ready, when it would have originally be updated on the schedule is when I will update it. I still won't be doing more than two stories any given day, disregarding tumblr prompts.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	39. Out Through the Window

16th July 2005  
Jim's POV  
Instincts tell him that something is going to go wrong with the idea of Mycroft taking a vacation to clear things up with Sherlock. Those two have years worth of issues going on, and the bureaucrat thinks two weeks is going to be long enough to solve their problems? He thought Mycroft was supposed to be some sort of genius? That's foolish planning if he's ever heard any. Of course, if the politician thinks they can get a start and actually form a plan about how to heal their broken relationship, rather than do all of it in that two week period, that's a totally different concept, and might actually work. If they manage stick to the agreed on time schedule and plan.

Slipping his earwig in because he wants to ask Pike how long until Mycroft is due, he's mildly surprised to be listening in on a mission being ran instead. When it goes quiet for a few minutes he queries, "Do you have time to check something for me?"

 _'Of course,'_ his friend replies, _'I was only fixing what an idiot was saying. I sometimes wonder where these people learned reading maps at.'_

"They didn't," he replies bluntly, "Which is why the only person I ever listen to is you."

Laughter fills his ear.

"Can you tell me when Holmes will be back?" he queries once it subsides.

 _'According to the internal records, he left for home three hours ago and was delivered by his driver.'_ Jasper answers a moment later. _'It appears he is carrying a file, but it's not a security one since it's a plain folder.'_

Rolling his eyes, he wonders if Mycroft took the coward's way out of answering the questions and just wrote them down. "Are the cameras I installed near Sherlock's room working?"

 _'Of course, he hasn't gone through the window,'_ the hacker replies after a moment. _'I'll keep an eye out.'_

"Good," he replies, considering going to the teenager's room and checking on him.

 _'Normal people say thank you,'_ Jasper mutters as he keeps typing.

"When have I ever been normal?" he retorts.

 _'Fair point,'_ his friend agrees, _'Why do I report to people who have an IQ lower than me again?'_

"You have morals and insist we both follow them?" he answers questioningly.

 _'Oh yeah,'_ Jasper snickers, _'Well, we should keep following them, since if we followed you're the world would burn.'_

"I have no _clue_ what you are talking about. Burning the world down isn't my gig, taking it over on the other hand," he lets his voice trail off suggestively.

 _'No Jim, we aren't taking the world over no matter how much you pout,'_ the hacker responds, voice laced with amusement. _'Also, your charge just left through the window. I do not think he realizes you put a camera there so we could make sure he didn't do just that._ '

Slipping his shoes on, he quickly heads to the front door, asking, "How far has he gotten?"

 _'He's doing a decent job of dodging the cameras. If I didn't know a couple workarounds from doing the same tricks and dealing with you, he'd probably be a bit more successful. Nearing the end of the street and practically running, but he's not dressed for a job so it's probably something foolish. '_ Jasper remarks, _'How the hell did he catch a cab dressed like that?'_

He laughs at the question. Slipping in his vehicle, he asks, "Do you know where he's going?"

 _'It appears the cab is heading towards some of his old haunts, want me to see if the troublesome duo will head in that direction?'_ his friend answers as he listens to the hackers fingers flying over the keyboard. Probably hacking the CCTV feeds to keep track of where Sherlock is at.

"Shouldn't need them," he replies, "I made sure to know all the teens favorite places when I got this job. Just send a mass text to the network telling them he's not allowed to purchase drugs of any sort with a picture, and that there will be a reward if he is stopped but not harmed."

 _'I like that plan, go use of resources that don't require a lot of motivation to keep on task,'_ Jasper muses thoughtfully, almost as if proud of him for thinking of it.

"What's the use of having a network if I don't use them?" he asks has he clicks on that lovely modifier that makes all lights green for him.

 _'How's the modifier working?'_ The hacker questions curiously. _'Yours is a prototype.'_ There is a short bark of laughter, _'The cab that picked Sherlock up is one of ours. I just got a message with the address the teen wants and how long it will take for them to get there.'_

He laughs, what's the odds in a city the size of London Sherlock would end up with one of his cab drivers? He could figure them out but that's more Pike's fun past time than his. "Forward the information."

 _'It's already on your phone.'_ His friend retorts almost fondly, _'Well back to working with idiots. I may send you some other information so you can clean a mess up.'_

"What sort of mess?" he asks as he grabs his phone and flicks the screen on.

 _'The type that requires a bigger mess to clean it up,'_ Pike answers, the Wildcards sass coming through.

"My favorite type." He hums, "Send the details anyways, I can always send Sebastian if leaving my charge isn't a choice."

 _'Good point, it will be sitting in your inbox under one of our codes when you return to the house,'_ Wildcard remarks with a snicker. _'She'd be better than the sniper.'_

"Ah, well I'm not all that happy with her right now. She broke a direct order, so the next time we have words is going to be a bit painful for her." He replies as he pulls the car to a stop right where he needs to be. If the information the cab driver gave was correct they should be pulling up any time now. The question is: how is he going to deal with Sherlock?

* * *

There's a bit of an update to my updating schedule, it won't affect this story, but it affects the rest of them. Since reviews have dropped since I went on a regular schedule, I am going to switch back to updating as I get things done and have focus instead. However I also plan to try and complete each story, or as complete as I possibly can without feedback before I begin posting. Once I get the story ready, when it would have originally be updated on the schedule is when I will update it. I still won't be doing more than two stories any given day, disregarding tumblr prompts.

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

I just realized I forgot to put this on FF, so here it is, it's been a long couple days!


	40. Caught and Dinner

16th July 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
He's twitchy, impatient to get where he's going but doesn't bother trying to get the driver to go faster because he realizes this is one of those people who never goes over the speed limit. When they get there, something feels off, he just doesn't know what until he slides out of the car and spots Jim leaning casually against the wall in a suit as if he owns the place.

—I think your brother is an idiot for a genius.— is the first thing the agent states, eyes narrow on him.

—How? — he responds, not talking about his brother and knowing that Jim will understand.

Snorting, the spy waves a lazy hand towards one of the street cameras they are just out of view from.

He growls softly in frustration, how could he have forgotten that Jasper works for MI5 and MI6 as a hacker and analyst, not just as an agent? He's so stupid. So slow and just not intelligent. His brother's right. He is a fool.

"Stop." The single word is spoken softly but with the expectation of being obeyed, it cuts through the thoughts running through his head faster than any drug he has ever taken.

Swallowing hard, he blinks at the agent, realizing that Jim has moved closer but he doesn't think he's dealing with Jim right now, he's dealing with Wildcard.

A sharp nod tells him he's right before he even has a chance to ask.

—In the car, and don't bother trying to bolt. I'm faster and know the streets better. — The agent tells him, hand waving towards the car in the other alley, the cab having already left even though he didn't pay.

He still considers it as he does as directed, bristling at the order.

Wildcard slides into the driver's seat and before he's even finished buckle up, they're off, the car flying through the streets far faster than as anywhere close to legal. It's only when they slow down to stop that he realizes Jim didn't take him home. The spy has brought him to John's office.

—Pike notified him we were on the way.— Wildcard tells him once the car is parked.

He nods, swallowing hard, dread filling him. This is it. He'll never see John again because he's a disappointment and a letdown and a failure. He doesn't want to go in there and see that but he has a feeling he doesn't have a choice.

As his feet touch the pavement he considers bolting. He has a pretty good grasp on this area and could probably escape.

—You could try. You wouldn't get far.— The agent tells him with narrow eyes.

Before he has a chance to do anything, the front door opens and the doctor comes striding out. Glancing between them with a curious expression, brow furrowed in concern.

—Come inside, I have hot tea and food waiting,— John remarks, holding the door for him to walk through first.

Hesitantly, because he is definitely not ready for this, he enters the building considering trying to bolt out the back but deciding against it. Instead he heads to John's office, fully expecting that this is not going to like what happens next.

Only things don't end up going the way he expects. John stops him before he reaches the office with a light touch on the shoulder. —Upstairs. —

He blinks because they do not hold meetings upstairs in the doctor's home. They hold them in the office. Still, he goes as directed, startled when he discovers four cups and four plates already set out along a coffee table.

—Go ahead and pick one,—John suggests, taking the one that's the furthest away.

—I don't understand, — he states, confused because this is not how he expected whatever this is to go. Who's the fourth plate for? He's pretty sure it's not Mycroft, so it must be Jasper.

Taking the one with the least amount of food, he settles in the corner of the couch with it.

Jim doesn't say anything as the agent selects a plate and settles in the armchair.

Less than ten minutes later Jasper taps at the fire escape window, before letting himself in.

That window was locked. He thinks in shock, how'd Jasper get through the lock.

—Some people should not be agents or handlers because they lack the brains God gave a snail. — Pike grumbles as he grabs the remaining plate, flashing a quick thank you to John.

The meal is quiet. Some would even call it peaceful though he feels his stomach knotting with every minute that passes without someone saying something. Even more than that, is when he looks at the other three none of them read as disappointed. Not surprising with Jim and Jasper, the two agents excel at masking what they are thinking and feeling, he rarely gets any sort of read on them. It is surprising with John. He thought for sure his friend would be disappointed and yet all he is seeing is understanding, that has to be wrong.

—It's not, — Wildcard comments as the spy sets his plate aside. —Your mind is attempting to play a trick on you.—

—As I cannot look at people and know what they are thinking, please fill me in,— John requests with the hints of a smile.

—Sherlock is convinced that he's missing signs of disappointment from you. —Jim replies calmly.

John immediately turns towards him, speaking almost before their eyes meet. —It's saddening that you tried to find drugs rather than discuss the feels that drove you that way with one of us, but it's understandable and I cannot be disappointed. Addiction, particularly strong ones, can be the hardest to break because they're like a quiet siren in the background always luring closer and closer. —

He just stares, because he has a hard time understanding. Everyone is always disappointed in him. He does nothing right. John has to be lying. Yet.

He swallows hard, eyes darting between the three and not seeing any of the signs he expects to out of them. He doesn't know what to do and finds his eyes getting heavy. He almost thinks that he's been drugged but that's not possible. Is it? His thoughts get cloudy, and the last thing he wonders is which one did it.

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	41. WTF

16th July 2005  
John's POV  
—Seriously? — he demands looking at the psychopath with narrow eyes.

—I didn't expect him to pass out, normally it just makes people relax, — Jim replies with shrug. —I didn't give him too much, I only gave him half the dose.— The agent holds the tiny bag up. There is still powder in it.

—Why would you even? Never mind, this is one of those things I am just not going to understand.—He grumbles, standing to go check on his friend and patient.

—It's a well established tactic when dealing with emotional people. Wildcard only likes emotions when he's manipulating them, the rest of the time he prefers logic.— Jasper comments, —Possibly not the best course of action, but one I can understand. It's definitely not one I would have used. But then there is a reason he calls me the conscious one of pair. —

He can't stop the chuckle that escapes his lips. Of course they use different tactics. Jim is a psychopath with a need for power and control. Having someone trying to escape for drugs probably annoys Wildcard.

—Let's not drug him unless there is zero other choices.— he comments, happy when he finds that Sherlock's pulse is strong and steady.

Jim just about pouts,—I only wanted him to be calm enough to think. Sometimes it's needed and this,— the agent picks the bag back up as the dark-haired genius slips it in his suit pocket, —is a lot easier on the system than what he was actually after.—

—That's not the point,— he replies, —We're trying to earn his trust remember. That doesn't happen if he's drugged. —

—Truthfully,— Jasper comments with a tilt of his head and a small smile, —I proud of Jim because it's the first time he did this. I was expecting it a lot sooner.—'

Shrugging Jim responds with, —This is the first time he wanted cocaine. So it's the first time I thought it would be needed.—

Sighing, he heads towards his small kitchen to make more tea. How to help Sherlock? What if Jim has caused damage to the healing process with this action? How to deal? Possibly have to have Jim replaced, but he is pretty sure that's not the best option. So far Sherlock has responded well to the psychopath. So it's pretty much a matter of seeing how things turn between the agent and teenager.

—Considering his build and current physical condition, he should wake up in the next fifteen minutes.— Jim states with a shrug. —I will explain my logic to him. I'm sure he'll comprehend. Perhaps calling it an experiment would do the trick.—

—You don't deal well with people do you?— he asks after handing Jasper a new mug and setting his down on the table in by his seat.

—People? Please, there are three types: pawns, controllers, and wildcards.— Jim replies with a snort. —All four of us are wildcards. Jasper is also a controller, but let's not get into _that_.—

Jasper turns a rather interesting shade of pink, glaring at the other agent with a scowl.

—Tell me where I'm wrong, — Jim dares, shrugging and getting up to head to the kitchen area.

He sighs and shakes his head. Thinking about the word choice used: pawns, controllers, and wildcards. The psychopath thinks the four of them are wildcards. He would like definitions to go with the words rather than relying on ones he knows for the base words. After all it could be taken in several different manners. After Jim sits back down, he orders, —Explain.—

—Pawns are people who rely on orders or directions, they have to have a goal at all times or they're lost. Most of my targets are that way, whether they realized it or not. Controllers are those who have to be in control to move forward, those who know how to direct people. Most psychopaths in that category fall. Wildcards are people who can fall either direction depending on the situation, the ones who can be good leaders or followers depending on what is needed. Wildcards are also the most dangerous type because of the ability to understand other people's motivation. — Jim tells him with a shrug, —It's part of a good manipulation is knowing where a person will fall on the category of personality type. Those who fall on two of the scales like Jasper aren't all that common but they combined the best traits of both, normally without the downside.—

—You said psychopaths fall on the controller scale,— he retorts, eyes narrowing at the spy.

—Most do, they have to control every little thing. I don't know if I tend towards the wildcard because of the fact I have something most psychopaths don't have.— Jim replies with another shrug.

—You have him,— he hazards, motioning towards the second agent.

—Exactly. I have someone I consider a friend. Not an easy accomplishment.—the Wildcard agrees.

—He's waking,— Jasper cuts in, not commenting on the rest of the conversation.

Blinking at them, Sherlock slowly looks between each, confusion clear on the teenager face.—Who? No. Why?—

Smiling at the young man, Jasper suggests, —Work through the equation before you with what you know.—

—Jim. No. Wildcard.—Sherlock states after a few minutes.

—Correct. Your system wanted drugs and you were on the high strung side for it. I've never had someone pass out with that particular relaxant.— Jim tells Sherlock, rolling his head and shrugging in a motion that reminds him of a snake.

For a long moment the teenager simply stares at the psychopath before slowly nodding.

All he can wonder is what the fuck? That's not the reaction he expected.

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	42. Reassuring

16th July, 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
His initial reaction to being drugged is curiosity. Namely, who did it and why. He knows instinctively it wasn't John. That isn't the doctor's method of dealing with situations. That leaves Jim or Jasper. He doesn't think that it was Jasper, the second agent never got close enough. So Jim. But why? That is the part he doesn't really get. So he asks, not actually expecting an answer but wanting one anyways.

The reason given makes sense. He was after drugs. Wildcard used a drug to calm him down. It's the same sort of logic he'd use. He accepts it as such.

Yet, when he glances at John, he gets the impression he is reacting wrong. As John is the only normal one in their group, that bothers him. Is he reacting like a psychopath? Is that why John's not happy with his reaction. But he's not a psychopath, maybe a sociopath despite the fact Jim says he isn't one, only border lining it.

There has to be something wrong with him. He's not responding properly. At least, that's what his impression of John tells him. His friend, that's still very weird to think, the idea that he has a friend, yet he's very sure that they are friends. His friend thinks he's not reacting right. How should he react? Should he be angry that Jim drugged him even though the logic makes sense to him? Is he supposed to be angry because the drugs had unexpected side effects? That just makes him curious. Who else has the psychopath drugged and what were their reactions?

Biting his lip, he glances between the three, trying to figure out the right answer, because it seems all three have different opinions on how he should be reacting.

—Sherlock, — Jasper states clearly, the motion quick and fluid, drawing his attention. —React how is natural to you. Each of us reacts differently to the situation. John reacts like a doctor, concern over your wellbeing and how it will affect you psychologically. Jim responds like a psychopath, interest in how it provides power and the side effects, much like an experiment piquing his interest. I respond like an agent, understanding the motivation even if I do not agree with it. You can respond how it feels natural to you, not how you think others expect you to respond. —

—But I,— he starts, pausing to try and figure out what he really wants to say, —I understand the motivation. — He shrugs, feeling lost. Is there something wrong with him and all those people who thought he was a freak are right?

—There's nothing wrong with that. I'm not a psychopath or sociopath and I understand the motivation.— his cousin replies seriously.

—John thinks, — he begins but ducks his head and drops his hands as he can't bring himself to say what he thinks his friend thinks. That he's wrong, that there is something off with his reaction. He can't bring himself to look at them. He doesn't want to see their disappointment or reactions to him being a freak.

A soft tapping draws his attention, and he finds himself glancing over at the deaf man despite the fact he doesn't want to.

—There is nothing wrong with your reaction. I'm annoyed with Jim, not you.— John tells him, a small reassuring smile playing at the edges of the doctor's lips. —He should have known better than to use drugs on someone who recently detoxed. That and unexpected reaction had a higher chance to occur.—

He blinks, tipping his head to the side and studying John. Something about that seems off, yet everything in his friends bearing says it's true. So why is he getting the impression that there is more to it? He should ask. How to ask? He doesn't want to seem like he is stupid or slow. He feels like he's stupid and slow far too often.

"You are far from stupid," Jim states clearly, the hints of an Irish drawl startling him despite the fact he has heard the psychopath speak on several occasions.

—Mycroft thinks I'm stupid,— he retorts angrily.

—Mycroft can be an idiot,—Jasper cuts in. —Just look at the fact he didn't realize I am the real Jasper Gray during the last six years.—

He surprises himself and the others by laughing, which abruptly stops the laughter as he tries to remember the last time he just laughed at something. It's very amusing to think of his brother as the idiot. Particularly since his brother has always felt he was the stupid one, even when he was a child, no matter what he did. Maybe Mycroft isn't as smart as he likes to say he is.

Only…

In the letters his brother didn't sound like Mycroft thought he was stupid. It almost seemed like his brother blamed himself. Why? It doesn't make sense.

—I don't understand,—he eventually admits, growling because he wants to say it out loud, but he still can't seem to make his throat work for words, though he is slowly getting other sounds back. He doesn't understand why he's having so many issues with sounds. He was slow as a child to speak and communicate verbally.

—That's the first step towards healing, — John answers with a wide smile and an encouraging nod, —Asking questions, knowing there is something that you need to ask about, whether it's help or motivation.—

That doesn't make sense. How's admitting he doesn't understand the first step towards healing?

—Because it opens you up to exploring what you don't understand, and that can lead to finding the answers needed to heal, — Jasper replies with a shrug. —It's like, I can easily admit explosives are not my strong suit. In doing so, I can ask Wildcard here about them, because I can accept the help.—

—Don't think that means he is still not good at them however, cause he learns as fast as us,— Jim retorts with a snicker, motioning between the two of them.

He learns as fast as the agents? Is that right?

—Sherlock, understanding you don't have all the answers is why it's the first step of healing, — John tells him. Standing, the doctor glances between them, —I'm going to make more tea. There is no drugging it.—

Jasper nods seriously, then holds up a small bag, —Got it.—

Jim glances at his cousin with narrow eyes.

He just starts laughing again, this time not as surprised by the sound, so it continues on for several minutes. The two agents share a quick grin before Jim joins in, and Jasper shakes his head.

John returns from the kitchen and just smiles fondly at all of them.

Maybe healing won't be as hard as he thinks, these three are more supportive than he realized. He was sure John was not going to want to be around him anymore because of the fact he came close to relapsing, yet that hadn't happened. Jim and Jasper found him, and they found him before he could harm himself. They didn't force him to go back to the flat where the letters wait for him like a taunt, heartbreak, insecurity, they brought him somewhere he feels safe.

Tomorrow he's supposed to talk with John and Mycroft. They'll probably discuss the letters. He'll probably run away again because it will be too much for him. But if tonight tells him nothing else, it tells him that one of the three will come for him.

Maybe someday Mycroft will come for him too, not just because his brother feels he has to, but because his brother wants to.

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

 **Authors Note:** On the 28th of November I will be posting a complete 130 chapter fic over on AO3 called Different Paths that is a James Bond triad verse soulmate fic. The triad is James Bond/Alec Trevelyan/Q (Jon). If there is any interest, I'll also post it here for folks to read over the next few months.


	43. Self Admissions

17th July, 2005  
Mycroft's POV  
As soon as he wakes up he wonders if giving Sherlock the letters before he passed out was the best choice. What if the triggered something awful? He possibly should have warned Moriarty just in case.

Getting up, he quickly gets a shower and dressed before going to check on his brother. He's decided against wearing a suit for the next few days and selected a plain shirt and slacks, hoping that it will come across as less formal and more approachable. Not that he's sure it will work. He has no idea how to relate to Sherlock, or anyone else for that matter unless he is looking to manipulate them. Even then, it's not so much that he relates to them as he finds the weak points to press and use as weapons.

Maybe Moriarty was right to say he's the sociopath during that odd conversation they had.

He's unsurprised when he finds that Sherlock hasn't been in his room all night, however he is concerned over the slightly open window. Did his brother leave through the window and where is the teenager at now?

Eyes sliding over the room, every detail fitting itself into place, from the pacing and worry Sherlock experienced, to the panic and fear the letters invoked, to the confusion and eventual fleeing the house. The next room he checks is Moriarty's, finding it has been empty just as long although the agent leaves far less clues behind.

Hopefully the fact that the psychopath isn't here is a sign that Moriarty found his brother before Sherlock did something foolish.

What to do, he wonders as he closes the door and stands there thinking for a moment. He's missing something. Some detail that is throwing everything off in his equations and understanding. As much as he hates feeling weak, out of control, or foolish, he is currently having to admit there are times he's all three. Mostly in regards to Sherlock.

He'll go check the cameras using the secure line in his office to make sure his brother is safe. He'd call but he doesn't want to interfere if Moriarty is doing his job and finding Sherlock. Perhaps he should call Gray instead? The hacker tends to always know where Moriarty is at. Which is something he appreciates, since it gives an added layer of security for Sherlock. After all, Gray tends to be Moriarty's conscience.

Jasper Gray, he thinks as he slips in his office. Apparently they're related. While he remembers having a cousin with that name, his cousin vanished after his aunt and uncle died. Gray doesn't read like he's lying, but he has to admit that he has a very hard time getting an accurate read on both Gray and Moriarty, and as much as he hates to admit it, Sherlock. It is altogether possible that Gray is their cousin, which makes him curse at himself internally for missing the obvious, because there are several physical similarities between his brother and Gray that are explained by the blood relation.

Before he's even has a chance to finish logging in, a small black pop-up appears in the corner of his screen with a coded memo. Reading it twice, he quickly works through the message and smiles ruefully when it makes sense: your brother is with the doctor, wildcard and pike.

Well, that's at least reassuring. Glancing at the clock, he realizes it's still very early in the morning, but he knows he will not get back to sleep. Perhaps, yes, he'll make breakfast for himself and then plan to make lunch for the five of them. At this point it might be a good idea to include Moriarty and Gray in on the planning and discussion. They're connecting with his brother more than he is, much to his frustration. Yes, he needs to also have several private discussions with Sherlock with Doctor Watson there to mediate. For now, well, he wants his brother to feel comfortable, and if that means having a pair of agents that like to be sassy around, that's what he'll do.

What time do, what to do. Shutting everything down, he heads to the kitchen and glances around slowly, taking into account everything he can see and calculating what will be the best thing for them to have. He'll make himself oatmeal, then plan lunch. Perhaps they can make it an early dinner instead? The would give a wider variety of meal options. Actually, he'll set it up so they can eat while they discuss the situation with a bit of a buffet. That's a perfect idea.

Now what sort of things does Sherlock like to eat? He can easily remember what his brother doesn't like, but it seems harder to think of what he does. Most Asian foods seem to be easy on his brother's stomach and eaten absently, some American foods are devoured on the rare occasions they grace the table, Italian and Greek foods are well liked, not a lot of the stuff they grew up eating however. Hmmm. Does Sherlock have bad associations with them? That would explain why his brother doesn't like them. Well then, he'll make something Italian since he doesn't really know how to appropriately make most the Asian foods.

He spends several hours in the kitchen, first eating his breakfast while he looks through the options then, making sure he has everything needed for making the buffet he wants on the table, and finally for actually cooking. The things he doesn't have, he calls in an order for and they are delivered a little bit later, charged to his account with the grocer. He has Miranda get out the warmer bar so he can put the buffet food on it and keep it fresh while he cooks the rest and while they are taking their time eating and discussing things.

By the time the other four get there just before two pm, he is quite pleased with the layout and setup. Particularly since he did all of it on his own, despite the fact his cook looks a bit lost with him doing so. Still, he's hoping it will show Sherlock that he's trying to think of his brother, rather than letting it be someone else's problem.

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

 **Authors Note:** On the 28th of November I will be posting a complete 130 chapter fic over on AO3 called Different Paths that is a James Bond triad verse soulmate fic. The triad is James Bond/Alec Trevelyan/Q (Jon). If there is any interest, I'll also post it here for folks to read over the next few months.


	44. The Begnning of Lunch

17th July 2005  
Mycroft's POV  
As soon as the four enter the room, his eyes scan over each. He gets nothing from Gray and Moriarty, that's not surprising. Doctor Watson is interesting, apparently the blonde had been processing information for their meeting today when Gray had called last night. The four of them had spent the evening at the doctor's flat. His eyes fall on his brother last, mostly because his brother is the last one to enter the room. Sherlock's shoulders are rolled inwards, head down, skin a combination of worried pale and embarrassed pink, definitely not dressed for being outside. His brother didn't manage to find drugs, at the same time his brother was knocked out by something.

His eyes flicker between the two agents, easily determining that it had to be the Wildcard who drugged his brother.

—I made sort of a lunch-dinner, — he comments as he motions to the buffet.

He's not going to comment on the fact his brother left the house to do drugs. That will probably get covered through the course of their conversation to follow. First they need to get to that part.

—You made it?— John asks curiously, looking at the variety he has laid out, and the dishes set beside the buffet to make it a bit easier.

He nods once, eyes not leaving his brother, thankfully his peripheral vision is excellent which lets him see what's being said.

—It looks good. — The doctor states before turning towards Moriarty, —There will be zero drugs used for the rest of today.—

The agent simply smirks.

—I would like for all five of us discuss where we are currently at and where we are trying to go. I would still like to also have our private meeting between Sherlock, myself, and Doctor Watson. — He remarks with a questioning glance between John and Sherlock to make sure they are alright with that.

His brother just shrugs, their doctor nods in agreement, the agents do nothing.

—Shall we begin lunch? — he suggest, glancing between them again, although Sherlock is the one he really cares about in this situation.

—I guess,— his brother answers, wandering over to the buffet.

-o-O-o-

Jasper's POV  
He watches the way the brother's interact, noting how tense the two of them are. Have these two ever managed to communicate? He wonders curiously, sharing a quick with his best friend. He can see the mischief in those dark eyes but knows that the other two geniuses in the room probably can't.

He has to bite back a laugh when John looks at Jim and orders no drugs.

Turning towards the buffet, he whistles softly. Mycroft can cook more than he expected. Some reason he thought that his cousin didn't have a clue when it comes to cooking. That's an interesting tidbit of information. His senses tells him that it's all cooked almost as well as a professional, which makes him think that his cousin has taken classes in the past.

So Mycroft wants all of them on the same page. That is probably a wise decision considering everything. At the same time he doesn't trust his cousin's motivation. Of course, his lips curve up into the hints of a smirk, he's sure his cousin doesn't trust him or Jim. However, if there will be success, then it is a necessary plan of action.

Mycroft might just surprise him yet and actually care about Sherlock. That would be a welcome unexpected factor. He's often wondered since the first time he met his cousin after his parents died why Mycroft didn't erase himself from his family and the records. After all, if the politician didn't want to be bothered by them or have ties to them, then it would have made sense but Mycroft never did.

Perhaps Jim's right and Mycroft is only playing at being a sociopath because that's what the politician feels he must. What a peculiar idea, he thinks, family can be like networks, powerful together and weak when splintered. Perhaps he should explain that concept to the older man sometime.

-o-O-o-

John's POV  
Well this is definitely unexpected but a pleasant surprise. He hopes that Sherlock sees it for what it is: Mycroft trying. Nearly everything on the buffet are things that he has seen Sherlock eat in the past. The entire house smells wonderful. He can pick up a wide variety of scents from the different spices and foods prepared.

He's the second last one to get a plate, letting the others go first, and he would have let Mycroft go too, except the older man motions for him to go. Once he has a plate of food, he takes a seat so he is opposite Sherlock, but easily able to see everyone at the table. He finds it rather amusing that Jim is seated beside him and Jasper is across from them by Sherlock.

—You're going to behave, — he states, not a question but a direction.

The psychopath's lips twitch in the hints of a smile as the dark-haired genius' head inclines slightly.

—Good.— he declares before turning his attention to Mycroft and Sherlock. —You've done a wonderful job on this lunch. I see you have set it up so we can take our time. Should I gather that you'd like to talk while we take our time eating?—

—Yes,— Mycroft agrees with a nod, —It is my hope that maybe we can relax a bit, eat, and attempt visiting like,— the politician pauses for a moment, eyes narrowing thoughtfully, —friends. —

He smiles encouragingly at their host. —That would be good.—

Jasper nods in agreement.

Sherlock stares at his brother as if he's confused or disbelieving. Of course, from what he knows of the brother's relationship that's probably fairly close to accurate.

Jim's lips twitch upwards in the hints of a smirk. That expression barely changes as he discreetly elbows the psychopath, which earns him an amused grin from the agents.

—Why did you chose to cook?— he asks Mycroft, deciding to start the conversation somewhere neutral.

—It was a good way to give myself time to think.— the politician answers after finishing the bite he's on.

—Why Italian?— Jasper queries curiously, head tipping to the side as the calmer agent waits for an answer.

—It's something I know Sherlock likes that I know how to make. — Mycroft answers smoothly.

—How? — Sherlock asks, just a single word, but it's a rather loaded question from the expression the teenager is giving his elder brother.

Setting the silverware down carefully, Mycroft's expression turns thoughtful before serious and earnest, —I wanted it to be something you'd enjoy eating. I learned to cook years ago, I just never saw any reason to cook.—

He watches the way each person at the table watches Mycroft's expression. All three geniuses are trying to determine how honest the politician is being. Sherlock is guarded, hopeful, confused, he wants his brother to have made lunch because Mycroft cares. At the same time, Sherlock doesn't trust that to be true and not just a manipulation. Jasper is watching the way the brothers are reacting to each other, reading the sincerity and more than that, the small signs of whether it is working or not. Jim on the other hand is paying more attention to Sherlock than Mycroft, watching how the youngest person in the room reacts and keeping an eye on how he will act.

It's going to be a long day if they are all going to be so suspicious and paranoid of each other, he thinks with dark humor. How to get them to stop that?

-o-O-o-

Jim's POV  
He's mildly surprised that Mycroft made the lunch-dinner for them to share, willingly admitted that the five of them need to discuss things together, and is over all trying to reach out to his brother. The motivation for it doesn't make sense to him. Why would the politician do that?

He keeps his face a neutral mask except for the hints of a smirk as he considers the two of them.

This is definitely more of Pike's domain than his. At this moment, he's not sure he could easily manipulate either of them.

He keeps his mask in place when a sharp elbow smacks into his ribs, catching his attention because it definitely wasn't an accident. Glancing at the doctor, he's unsurprised by the nearly under the table order to behave in ASL.

Now that's interesting, at this point he wasn't actually planning mischief, just trying to understand. It's an area he doesn't do very well with because the emotions for it are beyond him. At least, they're nothing he can remember feeling in the past. It's what makes him so good at his job, the fact there is only one person he's got a good emotional connection to. Actually, he should take his cues from Jasper in how to respond tonight.

He agrees that the five of them should discuss what's going on. It would be the best course of action. He doesn't understand why he's not allowed to use calming drugs on either brother to make sure things go smoothly, however he has an unusual respect for the doctor and will respect that for today's conversation.

As he watches, there is a brief discussion on what Mycroft cooked and why, but he sees the undertones, the things not said but meant as they pass between the brothers. He's curious whether they are aware that they are having a second silent conversation in the subtext. He'll pay attention to that conversation instead of the one with words. It will give him a better understanding of their motivation and feelings, and tell him if he needs to be manipulative or not. Besides, also a perfect learning experience, the four at this table are far from boring, which surprises him since he finds most people so very dull.

-o-O-o-

Sherlock's POV  
His brother made them lunch and is actually trying to connect with him? He doesn't understand. He was sure that everything was from guilt. This isn't guilt however, this is something else, he's just not sure what. Why isn't his brother angry at him or disappointed in him? That was the reaction he was expecting. Not this, whatever this is. Maybe he should use John as a guide as to how to react. He didn't miss the way his friend elbowed his minder, although he did miss what was said with ASL, it had to be ASL seeing how it was one handed and below the edge of the table.

That's interesting, he thinks, focusing on them for a moment, John's not scared of Jim even though his friend should be for all intents and purposes.

As he slowly eats lunch, he's mildly shocked at how much he enjoys it. His brother did a really good job. Maybe they can focus on the food and not talk about how he messed up, is a failure, and a constant disappointment. He's sure that he'll see that sooner than later if they start discussing what happened and why.

Why'd he have to go through that window? Why is so much overwhelming? Why does he crave the silence the cocaine can provide? Why's his brother trying? Is it real? Does he want it to be real? How will he know if it's real? What if he fails again? He's always been a bother so why would his brother care? Has his brother ever cared? How are they going to work things out if there is a wall of people between them? Unless that's the goal, not to work things out by having so many people around?

Of course, he trusts Jasper and John far more than Mycroft and Jim. Jasper and John seem to be decent sort, both don't hide what they are thinking from him, even if it seems like Jasper is hard for his brother to get a read on. Could Jasper be masking himself when looking at his brother? Is it even possible to hide things successful from Mycroft? Jim and Mycroft on the other hand, they're not as trustworthy, they hide themselves and what they think behind masks he can't see past. More than that, he doesn't understand their motivation.

Although, he glances between Jasper and Jim, his cousin is probably the only person who does understand Jim's motivation.

Does he want to try? Yes. Why? It's worth it, he'd like to not be so lonely, to stop being the unwanted freak. Maybe he shouldn't avoid the upcoming conversation. Maybe it'll help, at least a little.

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

 **Authors Note:** On the 28th of November I will be posting a complete 130 chapter fic over on AO3 called Different Paths that is a James Bond triad verse soulmate fic. The triad is James Bond/Alec Trevelyan/Q (Jon). If there is any interest, I'll also post it here for folks to read over the next few months.


	45. Lunch Continues

*waves* hi readers, last week _sucked_ , it felt like Murphy's law decided my family needed a visit and we really didn't. Here's last weeks chapter and this weeks. Enjoy!

* * *

17th, July 2005  
John's POV  
He's rather happy to see exactly how well the brothers are getting along right now. He still expects that there will be more rough spots to come, but it's a positive sign. He's also happily surprised that the psychopath sitting beside him is behaving. He's got a feeling that is a very rare thing when it comes to Jim.

For a little bit they manage to just eat and visit, the most boring sort of idle chit-chat he has ever seen siblings have.

Do these two know anything about each other? Well, do they know anything personal about each other might be a better question?

Still, they manage to sort of get a rhythm going in the conversation. Each person is polite enough to let the others think about what they want to say and actually say it. Something he knows a lot of folks who are not used to sign language as a primary language have a difficult time with.

As he watches, he realizes that Jim is taking his behavioral and emotional response cues from Jasper. That's not necessarily a bad thing. Particularly as Jasper is the stable one of that partnership. He also notices that Sherlock keeps looking at him, almost as if seeking approval, although it takes him a moment to realize why. For some reason the teenager trusts his opinion more than anyone else in the room. That's . . . humbling.

So how to actually make this more like friends rather than strangers are talking to each other?

Well ,Jasper and Jim already do it, they have years of friendship, and it shows in the easy way they talk.

Maybe, hmmm, maybe he should try doing something like an introduction or friendship building lesson? It's not like Jim couldn't use the help with that anyways. Does the psychopath even have friends beyond Jasper? Probably not. Sherlock, well, if he had friends, good friends, real friends, he probably wouldn't have ended up in this situation. Mycroft, most likely as friendless as Jim. Which leaves Jasper. He's got a feeling the second agent and computer programmer has friends, he's also certain that those friends are mostly of Jim's ilk.

—Let's play a game,— he suggests, immediately having Jim's undivided attention, which draws Sherlock's attention because Jim rarely pays attention to anything that closely.

—Games are interesting, continue,— Jim tells him, almost as if answering what he was just thinking.

He's still getting used to that, and there's four of them that can do it.

—Each person stands up and says something about themselves. It has to include at least one word from the person before them, and cannot be about the exact same thing. Words that don't count are I, me, and mine. — He explains, looking to see what their reactions are like.

He glances at each, waiting to see what their responses are.

He's mildly surprised Sherlock is the first to agree, —Okay.—

Smiling, he nods encouragingly at the teenager.

Jasper nods sharply once at Jim and the psychopath sighs dramatically, —Oh fine. I agree to the conditions as well.—

—Conditions?— he asks warily.

—No lying or side stepping,— Jasper promptly replies. —I like making him be honest. It's so hard for him sometimes. Besides, it's good practice for Sherlock to get a read on whether Jim is being truthful.—

—Pike's mean, if I'm not, he'll keep track and give me some of the most annoying and boring tasks possible later.— Jim complains, —Saying boring is dull in sign language, I can't draw it out. —

That startles another brief chuckle out of Sherlock and gets Mycroft staring at his brother in something akin to hopeful shock.

—I take it you're playing? — he asks Jasper curiously.

—Of course,— the agent replies with a grin. —I can't expect him to behave if I don't.—

—Don't let him fool you, he misbehaves just as much, he's just not as flashy or dramatic about it.— Jim retorts with a smirk.

—I can believe that,— Mycroft remarks after a moment thought, —He'd have to in order to keep up. I will play as well.—

—Great, I'll go first.— he declares, standing up and thinking about it for a moment, —I wanted to be a soldier as a child.—

Jasper stands up after he sits down, —I always wanted to be a hacker like my dad.—

—Our uncle was a hacker? — Sherlock asks Mycroft before standing up, —I wanted to be a pirate growing up.—

He beams at the teenager, happy to see his patient and friend trying. Just a few short weeks ago there wouldn't have been that much said in an entire day, let alone a single sentence. He hopes Mycroft realizes exactly how much progress the young man is making.

—Yes, he was, — the politician replies with a slight nod, —I wanted to use my interests to my advantage.—

Smirking, Jim replies to that when he stands, —I wanted to use my differences as a way to gain power. It mostly works. —

Shaking his head, Jasper just smiles at the table, taking another bite of food.

Some reason, he's fairly certain that Pike is the reason Wildcard hasn't had more success.

—Power may be important to some, but knowing how to use it is more important. — He remarks before standing up and saying, —I lost the ability to hear, but gained the ability to study without loud noises bothering me.—

Sherlock looks like he wants to laugh but isn't sure if that's the right response. He just grins.

—I always loved studying. There are lots of new things to learn. — Jasper comments for his turn, a playful smile curving his lips.

—I have always found studying boring, — teenager declares before almost throwing himself back into the seat and looking at his brother expectantly.

The politician looks thoughtful, finishing the bite he's on before standing up to say, —Studying was always used as an advantage, knowledge is power, and power can be very useful. —

—Agreed! — The psychopath proclaims before slowly standing, —Power was my way out of being the target of bullies for being on the small side. —

For some reason, having the psychopath agreeing made Mycroft uneasy. It only takes him a moment of reflecting to understand why. Ah, the older man doesn't like have something in common with the agent. He's got a feeling there is more in common than not, which probably unsettles the gray eyed man a lot.

—Bullies were part of life, I was small and deaf, but I could fight better than they expected. — He comments slowly, that had been a horrible time in his life, but he's sure it's a big part of why he grew up to help people.

Tipping his dark head sideways, the bi-speckled man studies him for a moment before taking his turn.—Fighting better than expected is always an advantage for someone on the slender side, knowing what makes someone tick is handy too. Math is not my only love. I also enjoy more artistic pursuits such as painting and playing the piano. —

Mischief fills the agent next to him face, —I can think of at least two other loves too.—

From there the game seemed to take a life of its own. They didn't go in circles around the table, instead whoever was not eating would comment, and they stopped standing up. Despite that, it seemed to do the trick as the air wasn't so fraught with tension any more. The feeling that they had nothing in common faded as little details came to the surface.

Mycroft, Sherlock, and Jasper all had formal lessons for their instruments. All three can play multiple different ones, although each also has a favorite.

Science is a favorite for himself, Jim and Sherlock.

Mycroft and Jasper agree that herding agents is like herding cats, it takes a special sort of skill that most people lack, are too stupid to understand, or are able to actually pull off.

They talk about the worst bullies in their lives, and he sees the discreet way Pike tells the Wildcard no. There's an entire private conversation around that word that is nothing more than glances and expressions. It's rather fascinating, and he's not the only one who thinks so since Sherlock watches with rapt attention. Unsurprising it happens when Mycroft is up getting a new plate, and thus has his back to the dark-haired pair of trouble.

They talk about favorite foods, textures that make things difficult or easy to eat, and why they pick certain foods over others. He learns of some of the places that the spooks and politician have been, and the different things that was considered local delicacies. He learns what other foods Mycroft can make, and what things Jim can make. Jasper apparently can't cook and burns boiling water, yet can rebuild damn-near anything without any issues.

—Funniest thing you will ever see, him fixing an appliance because I took it apart to see how it works, he can't cook worth a damn, but he's got that going for him.— Jim had stated with a smirk.

—Ask him about the time he woke up in semtex if he ever gets too sassy, — Jasper retorted with his own smirk.

He had laughed then, not wanting to know but having a feeling that Sherlock will definitely ask at some point in the future.

Each of them had several plates, and the cook had kept bringing fresh drinks as those are going faster than the food.

By the time the game finally fades away to just talking, everyone is nearly on friendly terms, although he can see how stiff Mycroft is too. He'll have to talk to the politician about that later. For now, this was a brilliant idea on the older man's part. It builds trust and bonds while still giving each of them a chance to learn about the others.

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

 **Authors Note:** On the 28th of November I will be posting a complete 130 chapter fic over on AO3 called Different Paths that is a James Bond triad verse soulmate fic. The triad is James Bond/Alec Trevelyan/Q (Jon). If there is any interest, I'll also post it here for folks to read over the next few months.


	46. Down to Business

17th July 2005  
John's POV  
When they are done eating things actually get serious, and he is only lightly surprised and highly pleased to see that it's Sherlock that actually does it.

—Those letters were almost too much at one time,—the teenager hesitantly says after things have been quiet for a few minutes.

Mycroft nods slowly. —I worried that they might be.— Turning his attention towards them, the politician states simply, —Thank you.—

Jim waves it off as if it is unimportant.

Jasper glares at his friend for a moment before nodding once sharply, —We're friends, of sorts, I don't tend to let friends get into mischief without me.—

Something says that sort of mischief is never on the actual agenda. Still, he gets the point that is being made.

Wildcard smirks, something dangerous flashing in the psychopaths dark eyes, —He's not lying. He manages to keep me mostly out of trouble, but we are always in mischief.—

Ignoring the two agents for the moment, he focuses on Sherlock, —How can this situation be improved?—

Tentatively the stormy eyed young man answers, —Don't give me emotionally based information when I will be alone?—

He smiles encouragingly, agreeing, —Good idea.—He then meets each of the other three geniuses in the room's eyes firmly to make sure that they got the point being said. Of the three only Jasper meets his gaze head on, which is startling, he would have expected it to be Jim. Nope, the psychopath meets his eyes before looking away, nodding once in agreement but saying nothing else. He has a feeling he needs to have a chat with the Wildcard in the near future. Mycroft flinches but doesn't look away, the politician is embarrassed by his failure to assess the situation and wishes to correct that error in the future.

He lets the silence ride, wanting this conversation to be driven by Mycroft and Sherlock. That's important. When Jim's hand lifts like he's going to say something, he just barely moves his head but the agent seems to understand.

—I want to go with you in the city,— the teenager states, then adds slowly, —I just don't think I can do the entire thing right now.—

His encouraging smile gets warmer as he nods in understanding.

—We need to actually talk,— Mycroft comments, —I need to listen. I think that's where I went wrong the most.—

Good for the politician, he's happy the older man seems to realize what is wrong and wants to actively change it. The question is: can Mycroft maintain that for the long run that it will take to actually make things better? The hardest part might be admitting something is wrong, but it's also very hard to keep to it.

The five of them sit in peaceful silence.

The cousins seem to enjoy it, each seems to be reflecting on something. Jim, on the other hand, starts to get antsy roughly five minutes in, fingers lightly drumming on the table top. He'd bet the psychopath's foots bouncing too.

After several more minutes of this, Sherlock burst out laughing, startling Mycroft who stares at the teenager.

—I used to do that all the time. Still do when I'm not lost in my own head.—the lanky young man comments when he finally stops.

It's good that Sherlock is feeling relaxed enough to laugh so much, he thinks with a smile. It's probably a change from before if Mycroft's expression is anything to go by. That's alright, it's a good change.

—I've been in my own head a lot lately,— he's sure if it was spoken, Sherlock would have been whispering.

Jim flashes a fake smile, replying, —I'm always in my head, I just have too much energy for sitting about normally.—

—That's as long as he's not playing in someone else's head.—Jasper cuts in.

The teenager ducks his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

—It's alright to smile, some would say it's even healthy,—he tells his patient and friend.

—Learn different types of smiles, they work great for getting most people to do whatever you want or need,— Wildcard suggests.

He plants his elbow firmly in the psychopath's side, feeling the way the breath goes out of the slightly taller man.

This time it's Mycroft who chuckles, drawing Sherlock's stare.

So apparently not laughing is a family trait. Lovely.

Someone needs to teach these boys how to have a good time. He's fairly certain he's not the right person to do it. He's a deaf doctor, not a miracle worker. Still, he has a feeling that it's going to end up being part of what he does.

o-O-o

Sherlock's POV  
He can't remember the last time he has laughed so much. His sides are beginning to hurt. He's not actually sure why he is laughing, except he is genuinely enjoying himself. When was the last time he had fun just to have fun? When was the last time that he actually had enjoyed spending time with anybody? When was the last time anyone enjoyed spending time with him?

Whatever else can be said, getting to meet John has been a life altering experience in the best sort of way. The other two were just bonuses, he thinks as he glances at his brother, for the first time in a long time not feeling automatically bitter, worthless, or ignored.

o-O-o

Mycroft's POV  
The last time he can remember his little brother laughing like that is before he left for school. That was literally years ago. Sherlock wasn't even ten yet. He got how much he enjoyed the sound, even though it's different now. The highness of a childhood laugh has been replaced by the deepness of his brother's developing voice, more of a low rumble than anything. Does that mean that Sherlock's voice has broken in the time since the overdose? Does it mean his brother is finally healing? Whatever is doing the trick, it has to be continued.

He hadn't realized quite how much he actually cared until he nearly failed to save Sherlock's life, and knew that it would have been his fault.

Apparently their little team of one deaf doctor, two morally questionable agents, and bureaucrat with more ambition than familial understand seem to be the right group to help his brother. Maybe they can even continue to work on this until they are friends and his brother can speak again without choking up and getting so very frustrated. That'd be good.

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

 **Authors Note:** On the 28th of November I will be posting a complete 130 chapter fic over on AO3 called Different Paths that is a James Bond triad verse soulmate fic. The triad is James Bond/Alec Trevelyan/Q (Jon). If there is any interest, I'll also post it here for folks to read over the next few months.


	47. Check Up (V)

I hope everyone is having Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Peaceful Yuletide, or pleasant winter season, have an extra chapter as a gift

* * *

20th July 2005  
Mycroft's POV  
Sunday didn't go anything like he expected, he thinks as he slips into of the back of his car and it heads towards the doctor's office. To be fair, neither did Monday or Tuesday.

He's fairly sure he's talked more to his brother in the last three days than he has his brother's entire life.

It's been equally enlightening and frustrating. Particularly since they discussed different situations from his view and his brothers, a real eye opener since not all of them are viewed even close to the same. After Moriarty and Gray left, the conversation had turned a bit more serious.

As the psychopath had stepped through the door, the slender dark eyed man had stopped, looking at him and stating softly but clearly, "Caring might not be an advantage, but not caring is often a bigger disadvantage, as Pike has proven time and time again."

John looked torn between wanting to scowl and agreeing with the words spoken. It's probably the fact that they were spoken that bothered the doctor. Spoken words tend to bother his brother and send Sherlock into overload, at least since the overdose that is the case.

Still, there was a point behind those words and he understood it, even if it's not one he necessarily agrees with. Of course, he's been proven wrong lately, so perhaps that was just taking it a step further.

The car comes to a stop in front of John's office, and he slips out silently, heading towards the door with sure steps. He knows that the only people here right now are early shift nurses and John. The rest of the staff will come in after everything is ready for the day and patients are supposed to be arriving.

—Good morning, Mr. Holmes, — Alice, one of the receptionists greets him as she opens the door to let him in before locking it again. —Doctor Watson is in his office already.—

—Thank you, — he replies as he heads in that direction, nodding at the other woman, Mary, as he passes her.

He uses the 'doorbell' just outside the office, smiling and slipping in when it changes color to notify him that the doctor wants him to come in. he found the lighting system very useful, and wonders if he should suggest it for the club as there is a no speaking rule there.

—Good morning Mycroft,—the younger man greets him as he steps through the door. —Come in, get comfortable, I was just finishing up some notes.—

He nods, replying, —Good morning, John.—

They sit in peace for just a little over ten minutes while the doctor completes what is being typed before turning blue eyes in his direction, and shifting focus.

—How have the last two days been?— John asks, grabbing his pen to take some quick hand notes.

—Surprising,— he replies without thinking about it, —I think I have learned more about my brother in the last few days than I have the last few years. I'm not sure how I feel about that.—

Nodding, the doctor asks, —Is there anything particularly big you've learned and need to deal with?

He takes a few minutes to think about that question, before finally answering, —I'm not sure how I missed being Sherlock's primary support system. I can look at people and know close to everything about them.—

—Did you not know or did you simply deny it? — John queries, head tipping slightly thoughtfully.

He has to keep himself from flinching, because he did know, he just didn't think it was sincere. Apparently he was wrong. He's been discovering there are a lot of things he's been wrong about with Sherlock over the years. Most of them have added up to the situation they are currently in. He should have realized far sooner that Sherlock was not like normal children, so expecting his brother to act like one was foolish.

—Denied it, — he admits slowly, that leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

Nodding, the blonde asks, —Does it have an active bearing on what's happening now? —

—Yes, — he admits, not happy with the answer in the least. He makes his living reading people yet he majorly failed.

John gives him a few minutes to stew on that question before asking,—Are you actively trying to identify where you were wrong and correct the actions it caused? —

He nods slowly, —Yes. — Smiling ruefully, he adds, —Not always as easy as it should be. For all of my intelligence, there are still times I find myself falling on bad habits.—

The doctor's smile is almost playful as the younger man states, —I hate to be the one to tell you this, welcome to being human.— He's quite sure if it would have been said aloud it would have been in the driest tone possible.

—How unfortunate, — he deadpans.

That smile turns into a smirk before the younger man sobers up and they start talking about his interactions with Sherlock, what he feels he needs to improve, and how Sherlock is doing progress wise. He hadn't realized exactly how quickly his brother was recovering until John pointed it out, however, it is also pointed out that he can't expect there to be no more steps backwards. There is a long way to go until Sherlock is truly recovered. Still, it's good news, and he likes good news whenever he can get it.

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

 **Authors Note:** On the 28th of November I will be posting a complete 130 chapter fic over on AO3 called Different Paths that is a James Bond triad verse soulmate fic. The triad is James Bond/Alec Trevelyan/Q (Jon). If there is any interest, I'll also post it here for folks to read over the next few months.


	48. Thoughtful Days

Have a Happy New Years everyone

* * *

20th July, 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
He watches as Mycroft leaves early in the morning to keep the appointment with John. Apparently, during his brothers 'vacation' the only appointments that will be accepted are those with John. If someone else tries interrupting, his brother is not going to be happy about it and will not handle them with the normal sort of care that is used. Something about Mycroft isn't the British government, please someone use their head for more than a hair rack.

The last few days have been really unusual.

Saturday, while feeling over whelmed he had chosen to go get high. He never actually made it to that goal because his keeper had showed up. He now wonders why he thought he was going to be able to avoid the two spies. Both are very good at what they do, even if Jasper tends to downplay his abilities because he doesn't like others realizing that Pike has them. Then Jim had surprised him by not bringing him home, but taking him to John. He feels safe there, almost like he belongs, it's a feeling he longs for more than anything else. The quiet acceptance, not just because John doesn't speak aloud, but because the blonde doctor actually accepts him as is. They spent the rest of the evening there, even though John was a bit miffed that Jim drugged him, a situation which confused him.

Sunday the four of them had got into one of two vehicles and returned to his brother's flat. Of all the scenarios he expected, the one he walked in to the flat to discover was not actually on the list. He didn't know his brother was able to cook so well, or with such a variety. The five of them had sat down to a drawn out meal, during which time they had played a game and even managed to talk to each other. It was unusual to say the least. He even laughed.

Actually, he has spent more time laughing in the last four days, than he has in the last four years. Each time it surprises him, though he is getting better at hiding that fact, he thinks. The fact that it's all real laughter just makes it even more surprising. He's spent years learning how to laugh on command, even when he doesn't want to, but because it's expected. Not that he actually did it. So to just laugh because something is amusing is a very different sort of feeling.

Even more surprising is the fact his brother laughed too. He can't remember hearing Mycroft's laughter. He must have at some point heard his brother laugh. It's just been shoved away. Except that's not how his mind works. How he wishes it was.

The five of them had a serious discussion. One that he felt like an active participant in. One where he felt his words were given value. It's the first time he can remember that happening with his brother. That conversation and the fact his brother was listening was continued on even after the two agents withdrew because they had a situation to take care of and the thereof them were supposed to have a private talk anyways.

Jim's words to Mycroft had startled him. He never would have guessed that the psychopath could see the advantage of caring. Yet apparently the Wildcard does. Because of Pike. Jasper. His first cousin, who happens to be an agent and hacker. Manipulate it or understand it seems to be the psychopathic agent's mode of operation. Better yet, do both. At the same time, he doesn't think that Jim fully understands because the psychopath doesn't actually feel it. It's so very confusing.

His talk with John and Mycroft had been harder. It's so much harder, because he felt years worth of judgment and denial and dismissive attitude. Only . . . only it was mostly in his head. He can admit that. His brother was, is, trying. Maybe he can try to.

Monday is spent pretty much with only Mycroft. It is awkward and hard, but gets easier as the day goes on. They spend a lot of the day in the library area, each reading peacefully. At first he keeps expecting his brother to act like this is a waste of time, worthless, something. Only it never happens. After lunch, he's surprised when a Scrabble board comes out. They spend until dinner taking turns coming up with hard to use words, trying to outdo each other. Since both of them are polyglots, not all the words are in English. It's surprisingly fun. After dinner they end up back to reading, but occasionally they ask questions.

Tuesday involves sitting down to have a discussion about what he would like to do with his future. For the first time in his life, a member of his family is asking him, not assuming or telling him. It's downright shocking. He's tempted to check and see if his brother has a fever, but there are none of the physical markers for one. However, it does leave him in a quandary because he doesn't actually know what he wants to do. He just knows that he has spent years doing what his family doesn't want him to do.

That conversation had lasted until lunch, at which point Jim had shown back up, hair just a bit shorter and with a black eye. He tries to read the agent, but as always it doesn't work. That black eye makes him really curious however. What was Jim doing that he ended up with a black eye? He's was fairly certain that physical contact was one of those things that the Wildcard didn't do.

The time after lunch is spent with him alternating between trying to figure out the bruise and actually thinking about his future. He's spent so long not wanting one, he doesn't actually know what he wants to do. That bruise is really distracting.

He knows what he doesn't want to do. He doesn't want to be a politician, work for any of the family businesses, or be at someone else's beck and call. He wouldn't mind learning how to use his skills for a career. The question is what?

Dinner is a quiet affair. He's too preoccupied with trying to figure out what he wants to do with his life to actually ask questions or pay attention to the other two. After dinner he had retired to his room to play the violin and think.

Which leads to now, Wednesday. His brother just left to go see John. He knows part of their conversation is about him, he's not sure how he feels about that. He knows that his friend won't tell his brother anything personal, at the same time he wants to know why they are discussing him. Only he knows that is a stupid question. They're discussing his recovery. According to John he's doing remarkably well. He's not sure he believes it. The more interesting question is what do they discuss that isn't about him? Only he knows John will no more tell him about Mycroft's appointments, than he'd tell his brother about his. It's all very frustrating.

Shaking his head, he goes back to thinking about the original question. What does he want to do with his life?

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

 **Authors Note:** On the 28th of November I will be posting a complete 130 chapter fic over on AO3 called Different Paths that is a James Bond triad verse soulmate fic. The triad is James Bond/Alec Trevelyan/Q (Jon). If there is any interest, I'll also post it here for folks to read over the next few months.


	49. Interests

This didn't go at all how I expected it to, still, I like how it finished out

* * *

20th July 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
How do normal people decide what they want to do? He wonders as he bounces between playing his violin and writing down various notes about what he likes, dislikes, enjoys, and wants. It's actually a lot harder than he thought it would be there are _so many_ different options. Far more options than he expected, but a very long printed off list had appeared on his nightstand, and he's fairly sure one of the two agents dropped it there. He's just not sure which one. At the top it merely said: Possible Choices.

He never imagined he'd have so many. Not when he was always told what to do and what he couldn't do. It's only mildly surprising how many of the 'couldn't do' are on the list, and how few of the 'what to do' are.

Should he ask advice? But he doesn't want anyone choosing his life for him. Wouldn't asking for advice fall in that category? Research. He could do research on the web. Figure out what sort of things he'd like, what sort of things he wouldn't. Maybe he could even try job shadowing? Would he want to job shadow? He's smarter than most people, isn't there some he could do that wouldn't cause him to feel like he's answerable to idiots?

Grabbing the list and a pen, he starts scratching off most of the options before looking at what's left. Most of them have to deal with the field of science. Although there are a few that deal in law. Huh. That's odd. He never would have guessed anything with law. Particularly since he has a lack of regard for law related things.

So does Jim. He realizes, the psychopath doesn't give an iota for law. He sees it as a challenge to stay just barely within the limits or outside of them while appearing to be inside them. That could be challenging.

Dropping the papers on the bed, he goes back to playing, thinking about that little bit of information.

-o-O-o-

Jim's POV  
"Don't get dull on me. They want to keep you in Six for cyber warfare." He grumbles as he takes a glance around the small office. The only people in this department who have actual offices are Q and R, so his best friend shouldn't have one, yet here they are.

"I think they like my success rate for hacking. I'm faster and stealthier than any other hacker out there. Besides, you cause too much mischief for the pen." The gray-eyed agent retorts. "Besides, they can't take me all the way out of the field. They're terrified what happens with you if you're allowed to go solo."

An outsider seeing their shared smirk would bolt and hide, probably not coming out anytime soon for fear of their lives.

"That's true." He hums, "Let's get lunch. There's nothing interesting going on, and we both know you have this place set to tell you if something goes wrong with the other two."

"Bite me Wildcard." The hacker retorts, shutting things down. "Why don't we plot giving Sherlock some lessons that will completely piss off big brother?"

Curiously, he queries, "Why would we need to plot that?"

"Well," Jasper drawls almost playfully, "I was thinking we improve Sherlock's ability to pick locks and hotwire cars. Afterwards you two can play with something blowing. I'm sure there is at least one lesson you think he needs for that sort of thing."

His dark eyes narrow on the hacker as he considers the pros and cons of the suggestion. His eye is still hurting, and even though the idiot who did it is dead, he's still wants to destroy something. Sherlock might enjoy learning how to make homemade C4.

-o-O-o-

Jasper's POV  
He probably shouldn't have suggested that his mildly insane best friend teach their ward about explosives. He decides on the ride over to the flat. At the same time, it is a really good lesson for concentration, self control, and creative thinking.

Hmmmm.

Seriously though, how has Sherlock managed to deal with Mycroft for the last four days so much? He'd go insane if he had to deal that much with the bureaucrat. At the same time he has to acknowledge that Mycroft is trying. He's not sure he likes that either.

Although, he glances over at the psychopath sitting beside him, he wonders if Sherlock has gotten up the nerve to ask about the eye? Jim's face is rather impressive right now, and if he hadn't actually seen the man who did it right before he planted a bullet, he'd wonder if it was fake.

"Why did you shoot him anyways? I thought you dislike guns." The Wildcard asks, "I'd almost say retaliation, but that's my motivation, not yours."

"For a genius psychopath, you're an idiot," he replies as he pulls the car to a stop. "As I am feeling mischievous, I brought a tool kit with, we can go find some idiots car to borrow."

"You have someone in mind," Jim just about crows, "I wonder who's got your feather ruffled enough that you're planning my sort of offensive."

He just smiles, not bothering to answer since he knows that his long time friend loves figuring out these sorts of puzzles. It is rare for him to go on the offensive, preferring defensive and behind the scenes plotting. It's one of the reasons they get along so well. However, he is rather pissed at a few of Fives agents for doing pisspoor jobs and ruining some of his hard work. It's the entire reason he ended up shooting an idiot not twenty-four hours before when he doesn't like shooting people.

Giving a subtle shake of his head, he opens the door and slips out of the car, Jim almost instantly falling instep beside him

"We should do the boom lessons first. Then we can borrow whoever it is you are pissed at's vehicle and test them." Wildcard suggests as they step up to the porch.

He pauses, lips curling in a slow smile, that will work perfectly well, and make his point quite nicely. He was originally just going to dismantle their vehicles and use the parts for projects but considering their stupidity lead to part of one of his project going up in metaphorical flames, well, it's rather poetic.

-o-O-o-

Sherlock's POV  
He's surprised when Jim and Jasper knock on his door and step just inside it.

—Would you like to learn how to make homemade C4?—the Wildcard queries calmly, dark eyes gleaming with an unusual fire, not one he has seen in the psychopath before.

—Why?— he replies slowly.

—Pike is feeling mischievous,— the agent answers with a shrug. —I try to encourage his mischief since he's always encouraging me to behave.—

Behave is almost like a dirty word with the quick flick of the wrist that follows, giving the impression of distaste.

—All right,— he agrees, —It could be interesting.—

It will also give him more time to think about these two and see them working together, that has to be useful. Besides, he is sort of interested in the concept of becoming an agent, maybe, just a little. He doesn't want to say anything yet, because he actually wants to see if he can get past this not speaking first.

—No could about it,— Jim cheerfully comments, lips curved in something between a smirk and smile. —Blowing things sky high is always interesting.—

He just laughs, because that seems about like something the psychopath would say. The really interesting part is the fact Jasper isn't trying to stop Jim. So his cousin must agree with this course of action. It'll definitely be an intriguing day!

Crossing the room to join them he freezes when he realizes, —I'm supposed to have dinner with John tonight.—

—Time?— Pike asks.

—Eight pm.— he answers after thinking about it for a moment.

—That makes it more fun!— Wildcard remarks, —Now we're working on a timeline. Let's get to it. —

He'll have something interesting to discuss with John if nothing else, he thinks as he follows the pair towards the kitchen. Some reason he's sure Jasper will make sure he gets there on time.

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	50. Thoughtful Dinner

This didn't go at all how I expected it to, still, I like how it finished out

* * *

20th July 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
He has a blast with Jim and Jasper making C4. Even weirder, Mycroft joined them for a bit and helped out, showing him a different method than Jim for how to make it. Both are equally useful, although he's very surprised that his brother knows how to make it. When they were done. After making it, Jim and Jasper had taken him on a small ride, Jasper showing him how to hotwire a car that they 'borrowed'. They then tested their C4 on said car, with Jim giving him earplugs and earmuffs so the noise doesn't bother him. It was quite a scene to see.

Now he's sitting with John in his friend's flat, eating dinner and discussing their day in between bites of food. He's not sure if he should mention the fact they made C4 and blew a car up.

—You're rather lost in thought,— John comments after tapping lightly not the table to draw his attention.

He blushes, ducking his head, —I had an interesting day with Wildcard and Pike.—

One blonde brow arches at him inquisitively, —Fun interesting, concerning interesting, or disturbing interesting?—

He thinks about it for a long moment before answering slowly, —Fun.—

—That's good,— his friend replies with a smile. —Did you see the news today? Someone blew up a car outside of the city in an old car park where there used to be a petrol station.—

His eyes widen and he feels his skin heating up. Why didn't he think of the fact it would end up on the news? What if he gets caught or in trouble? Can he get in trouble for it since he was with two agents when it happened? He swallows, fighting back a surge of panic.

—I'm going to guess that the explosion that was on the news had something to do with our two troublemakers.— John remarks calmly, smiling at him soothingly, —Considering those two, there won't be any backlash.—

—How?— he asks absently, before realizing it must have been his expression. —My expression.—

—Yes, and you used their titles, not their names.— the doctor explains, still smiling. —Did you have fun with it?—

He nods slowly, —Yeah. We made the explosives first, Mycroft even joined in, I was shocked by that. I didn't realize he knew how to do that sort of thing.—

John nods once, —He was an agent at one point, so it's not too surprising.—

—I forget that,— he admits bashfully.

—That's okay, I think your brother likes playing down that fact he has other skills besides being a bureaucrat.— the blonde suggests with a shrug.

—Yeah,— he agrees, thinking about how much his brother seems to hate doing field work or something that looks like activity. His brother is more of the stationary type. Relaxing back into his seat, he stops eating for the time as he considers that fact a bit more.

His brother has never been the active sort, only staying in anything close to decent shape because of a need to stay healthy. Of course, the fact his brother has a thyroid issue means his brothers weight is always fluctuating up and down. That's part of why his brother tries staying healthy. Is that why his brother doesn't like field work? Because of the thyroid issue? Or is there something more?

Shaking his head, he turns his attention back to John.

—Thank you,— he comments randomly, appreciating that the doctor doesn't seem to mind him going off in his head.

—It's alright,— the blonde replies with another smile in his direction.

They spend the rest of dinner in peace and quiet. After dinner, he gets his violin out, because he had brought it with, and starts to play. He watches his friends reactions as he does so, noticing which ones seem to be the easiest for the deaf man to feel and sticking in that range. It gives him a challenge, designing a song that sounds good and is still easily felt for his friend. Actually, he should see if he can make them to be used on his other instruments and play them for John.

Eventually, the doctor gets up to make them fresh tea. He continues playing until the older man comes back, at which point he puts the violin down and accepts the tea with a small smile. Somehow, the blonde manages to make excellent tea every time, he doesn't know anyone else who does so as often.

—I'd like to go with you on Saturday again,— he eventually states, ducking his head down as he says it because he doesn't want to see what sort of reaction John initially has. What if his friend doesn't want him to with?

When he finally looks up, he is surprised by the look of understanding, —I'd like that. We'll start with a short one. Then slowly build up. You can keep learning the city streets. I bet you can memorize them better than Jim, maybe even play a game of tag in time. I know several homeless teens who like do that.—

He blinks, John thinks he could be as good or better than Jim? Really? His eyes dart over his friend, taking in the signs, and realizing the doctor's serious.

Slowly, his lips curve up in a smile as he nods.

—I take different paths each time, although there are a few spots I hit every time because that's where people know I will be.— John tells him with a grin.

—That makes sense,— he agrees.

They spend the rest of the evening sitting in peaceful silence. His friend is writing some things out while he is thinking about going on the walkabout. Learning all the roads, pathways, and ways around the city could be fun. Being able to play tag with Jim could be interesting to. How exactly would they play? He'll have to see if one of the homeless teens John mentioned would be will to show him, maybe even play with him. That makes him wonder if Jasper plays or not? He also wonders who the 'other two' that the Wildcard has referenced a few times, maybe he'll ask one of these days, when he gets a bit more comfortable with himself.

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

Last week was rather busy, between myself and ma, there was a doctors appoint every day, sometimes several, which is why I'm posting two today


	51. A Few Weeks Pass

20th July 2005 to 9th September 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
The next several weeks seem to drag on and fly by.

The rest of his brother's vacation goes rather smoothly. They spend the time they are together either sitting in peaceful silence - and boy does that feel odd - or discussing things calmly. When he's not with his brother, he's with John, Jim, or Jasper. Sometimes it's the four of them. That can be interesting to say the least. He gets to know more about his brother, and slowly his brother gets to know him.

It's not easy. Sometimes they have to walk away from each other because otherwise they start lashing out. Other times they walk away to process recently revealed information. He's not left alone during the processing. Jim or Jasper generally appear either in his room or at the door, although the one time he found Jim sitting in the tree outside his room toying with a phone.

Twice he considers doing something foolish. Both times he is sidetracked before he has a chance to do anything.

After Mycroft's vacation ends, he spends more time with John, going on several walkabouts, each time managing to stay out longer than the last. He loves spending time with the doctor. For some reason the blonde never puts pressure on him, encourages him to go back to studying and the even finds the unusual lessons that the two agents give him interesting. He was quite sure that John would disapprove, and yet so far, he hasn't.

He doesn't talk during those weeks, at least not aloud. He's still using sign language and writing. He does laugh more. Each time it startles him because he's still not used to it. Still, he finds himself enjoying himself. He's happy that he has something to laugh about. It almost seems like another life, the events that brought him into John's care as a doctor.

Now that's a topic that leaves him confused.

The more time he spends with John, the more he wants something more than just a doctor-patient relationship. Only, he's pretty sure that the blonde doesn't think of him that way. He has no idea how to change that. Several times he considers asking Jim, but he always shies away from that, it's not a good idea to ask a psychopath for relationship advice. Maybe he should ask Jasper. Pike probably could give him advice. The question is: would it be good advice?

The questions about his relationship with John have driven him closer to the edge a few times too. Each time the agents have stopped him. How they know, he doesn't know. Neither tells him how they know, neither says anything about the topic he doesn't know how to ask about. It's something that frustrates him. Maybe he should write John a letter? Letters seemed to work between him and his brother, maybe it would work with his friend. At the same time, he's terrified that if he does write that letter, if he does broach the subject, he loses his first real friend.

The other thing that nearly sends him closer to the edge is when his parents visit. His mum tries pushing him to talk, and it just spikes his nerves until he is ready to bolt. He's surprised when Jim appears at his side, dark eyes seeming to be full of fire as the psychopath at snapped at her to shut up. He's never seen his mother go quiet faster. Following that, his minder and maybe friend, because he's not exactly sure what he is to Jim, tells him to get changed into something comfortable. They end up in a rather nice flat in a different part of the city. There are a few others there, but no one says anything to him.

The rest of the evening is spent in the flat, a rather large man offers him a controller and he somehow finds himself in front of a TV playing some racing game. He can't remember ever playing a game like this before. Still, he picks it up fast and finds himself sitting on the floor in front of the sofa, legs crossed as he stares at the TV in concentration while a large man lounges beside him, looking almost bored at first. That is, until he figures it out, then he has the large man's attention.

Someone, a scrawny bloke who appears to be nervous of Jim, provides soda and snacks to them from a fully stocked kitchen.

That pulls him out of the game long enough to study the people here and his surroundings. This flat belongs to the psychopath but isn't the psychopaths. That's rather interesting. Who are these people in regards to Jim? They seem to prefer to keep a wide space around the agent, none getting within touching distance. The one they look to for questions and answers is the big man next to him, but he's pretty certain that the big man works for the Wildcard. That's also interesting. It makes him wonder how long this arrangement has been in use.

The feeling of the controller vibrating draws his attention back to the game, giving a small shake of his head, he returns to playing.

That's only the first time that they do that, he finds himself at a different flat two weeks after that, this time Jasper is there, along with two other men he quickly realizes are spies, actually, he does a double take, they're Double-O's, so they are at the top of the field for spies, and the most deadly sort. The shorter blonde agent starts talking out loud only to get a sharp elbow from Jasper. It causes an amused smirk from the taller blonde, the one with burn scars from some sort of fire or explosion.

Introductions are brief, but he discovers their names are James and Alec. James is the one who opened his mouth to speak. Alec is the one with light scarring on his face.

After that, the five of them have dinner. Apparently James can cook, and while they aren't having any sort of official meal, the combination is wonderful. He wonders if the pair plans on introducing John to these two, and wonders how that conversation would go.

He's not surprised when the Double-O's use sign language, he is surprised when Alec asks if he wants to learn Russian Sign Language. Of course he accepts and sets to learning as much as possible in as short of time frame as possible. Thankfully, seems to be fine with that, and makes it into a game which Jasper joins in on, although Jim does not.

After dinner they go back to his brother's flat, and he showers before sprawling in bed to think about the past weeks, life has definitely been a lot different. Maybe soon they will start letting him have more time on his own, without a keeper nearby. He'd like that, he's fairly sure he's finally past the part where he is in the most danger, at least that's his hope. Things have been setting him off less and less, that has to be a positive sign.

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

There is probably 7 to 10 chapters left on this story, there will be other stories in this verse, although I probably won't start posting them until I have them done, just because posting between writing is getting depressing as reviews have lessened and it keeps making me feel like no one is reading it. At least if I get it typed first, I wont have to worry about that keeping me from writing it or killing my muse.


	52. Games and Murder

18th September 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
It's another week before he actually manages to ask Jim about tag. He knows how children play, but how do adults play in the city? Apparently the game is to figure out the best place to hide, or stay on the move, so the other person can't find him. Short of injuring each other, anything goes. It sounds like it could be interesting, at the same time he's concerned about being overwhelmed.

—If it gets to be too much, just text me,— Jim suggests calmly, —or have one of the networks text one of us. There isn't really any place in this city you can go that one of the networks isn't at, between John's patients, mine and Pike's informants, and some of the other random people out there. —

He nods slowly, thinking about it. —I'd like to try.—

It's still another three days before they actually give it ago.

They decide to start at John's clinic since he is most familiar with that area.

Jim is giving him a ten minute window to start with. Something about giving him some adjustment time and a chance to get a head start. He's not quite sure that he needs ten minutes, at the same time, maybe he does. He's been slowly getting better. While he still hasn't spoken, he at least is communicating and hasn't wanted a fix in a while.

Off he heads, sticking to back alleys and side streets. He goes nowhere where there are large groups of people or loud noises, not trusting himself with either at this point.

Actually, he freezes, this is the first time he's been left completely on his own. His eyes flicker upwards, finding a camera and smiling. Jasper is tracking him. He knows the agent won't give his location away to Jim. That's not part of the game.

Grinning, he takes back off, heading towards one of the warehouses by the docks. It's not an area he's had a lot of chances to explore, so playing a game of tag with Jim is a perfect chance for him to do so. Since it's not somewhere he's been, the chances of the Wildcard realizing it's the direction he went are pretty slim. At least it is according to his calculations.

Time flies as he travels through the city, sometimes running, sometimes walking. He catches the underground for several stops. Getting himself even closer before getting off and taking back to the back alleys and side streets.

According to his internal clock he's been on the move for the last forty-three minutes.

He comes to a sudden stop as he rounds a corner and can hear a large group of voices in an area that he wasn't expecting any.

Again he freezes, stopping to listen to the conversation. Apparently there was a murder and they are currently looking at the crime scene. Slowly, quietly, he moves forward, still listening to the people talking, discussing the situation. He's mildly surprised there isn't a police line on this side, until he realizes that the police cars block this side so they wouldn't need to block it otherwise. Most people wouldn't come through the cars.

Curiously, he continues walking forward, eyes darting over everything.

There's a dead woman on the ground, looks like someone stabbed her repeatedly. It was definitely a crime of passion, but not the romantic sort but the possessive sort. Actually, his eyes scan over the group of people both the police and the crowd on the other side, slipping ever closer, he wets his lips, because he's pretty sure he can say exactly how this happened and why it happened and which of those people it is.

"He killed her because she turned him down, broke up with him and refused to come near him, she wanted to move on with her life. The guilty party is," he pauses, motioning towards a rather nervous looking heavy set man. "Him."

The heavy man goes to bolt but doesn't get far because the Wildcard appears in front of the large man and just smiles, an icy expression that freezes the killer in place.

"Of all the ways I expected you to get your voice back, rattling off details of a murder wasn't one of them," the agent comments with a snicker.

"Who are you and how do you know that?" a tall dark haired man whose starting to go gray demands, chocolate eyes dancing between them and the crime scene.

Jim smirks, flipping a card out from somewhere and handing it to the detective without saying a word.

The detective takes the card questioningly, eyes going wide before muttering, "You're free to go."

—Come on, I think we should pay John a visit, he'll be excited for you. — The psychopath suggests.

He nods, skirting the edge of the crime, pausing to comment, "You'll find the knife he used two streets over in the bins."

Stopping next to Jim, he arches a questioning eyebrow.

—Jasper is sending a car, it will be here shortly. — the agent tells him.

He nods and the two of them turn away.

Sure enough, they haven't gotten very far when a sleek black car pulls up beside them.

It takes him two tries to say it aloud, "Why a car instead of a cab?"

"I gave the detective one of my MI5 cards." Jim answers, "It's easier than talking my way out, like I normally would have, but you were starting to shake lightly."

Blinking because he hadn't noticed his physical state, he takes stock of it and discovers that the psychopath is right. That also explains the use of sign language when directed to him. Both designed to keep him from overloading. Despite that fact, he grins because he just solved a murder with nothing more than looking around and using his talent for seeing. It's the first time he's ever used his talent for something like that.

Maybe, could he do something with it?

He worries his bottom lip as he stares at the passing city, considering his options. He possibly could solve crimes, it could be fun, puzzles are almost always interesting.

—Do you think, — he hesitates, falling back on sign language as he is more comfortable with it right now.

Jim tips his head, that reptilian movement he has seen plenty of times as the psychopath contemplates what he started to say. Knowing the other man, the agent knows what the rest of the question was. Wildcard is the first non-Holmes he has met with that particular skill set.

—Do you think I do something like that? — he asks hesitantly.

—Yes. You could,— the agent answers, —Probably better than most their forensics teams since you see more than they do with just a glance.—

He ducks his head and smiles.

Now how to discuss this with his brother? Maybe he should have John mediate between them. While things have gotten a lot better between himself and his brother, he's still unsure of how to approach this. He's not really known what to do with himself, but if he could use his differences for something useful, something productive, maybe it would give him something to focus on beyond the siren of call of his addiction. Although, he snickers, he hasn't actually felt that sirens call in several weeks. He's not foolish enough to feel that it's forever gone. He knows addiction doesn't work like that.

When they reach the clinic, the two of them quietly slide from the car. He isn't due for an appointment until later today, but he's not bothered by the fact they will be waiting. It gives him a chance to think through this a bit more. Maybe come up with an actual plan or brain storm some ideas. He definitely has of planning to do, thinking through all the angles, maybe even some research.

That's one really nice thing about their particular group of friends, is the Jasper makes all their phones better than what can be found on the market. It's rather handy as he settles in to do some internet surfing while waiting.

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

There is probably 7 to 10 chapters left on this story, there will be other stories in this verse, although I probably won't start posting them until I have them done, just because posting between writing is getting depressing as reviews have lessened and it keeps making me feel like no one is reading it. At least if I get it typed first, I wont have to worry about that keeping me from writing it or killing my muse.


	53. Consulting Offer

19th September 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
Hacking the system and texting the detective, he ends up passing out on his bed still in his street clothes. When he wakes up a few hours later, he finds that he's famished, so he gets up, shakes himself out and heads towards the kitchen.

He's unsurprised to find Jim sitting on the counter toying with a phone. It's not an uncommon habit for the psychopath.

—Some people are so dull,— it's said in ASL, with Jim's left hand while the right continues to play on the phone. —For instance, that killer you identified was nothing more than an abusive drunk who thought he was more important than he was for no reason than he was a man. He really wouldn't have liked coming across me on a bad day.—

Laughing at that thinly veiled threat, he replies, "I believe that." Startling himself because he did so both aloud and with sign.

Glancing up, the agent smiles a lot like a shark, "He wouldn't have liked coming across Pike either. Although my partner is a hell of a lot nicer than me."

"Jasper's not the psychopath, you are." He reasons, still saying it in both.

"That's a very valid point." Jim agrees, tucking the phone away. "You seem to have slept well. If I thought a murder scene would have made you feel better, I would have found one for you weeks ago."

He just blinks at the psychopath as he processes what is not being said in that statement. There is a lot not being said in that statement. Although, was it really the murder that gave him his voice, or was it the fact he wasn't actually trying? Every time he has intentionally tried, he has failed, it's only when he's not trying that he has succeeded. Huh. Well, that's definitely something to discuss with John.

John.

Right. He was thinking of asking questions. He's pretty sure Jim would not be the right person to ask. Some reason he is pretty sure that personal relationships are probably the last thing the psychopath can give good advice on. But who to ask? Jasper maybe? Except he's never heard his cousin refer to anyone that he likes in that sort of way. Jim has teased his cousin about the 'other two' which he assumes is Bond and Trevelyan, but he doesn't understand the teasing. Bond and Trevelyan are both spies, both use sex as a weapon, and they are in a relationship together. Still, he's not sure they'd be a good idea to ask either because of spies who use sex as a means to an end.

He needs a normal person to ask questions of and he doesn't have one.

"Are we friends?" he finds himself asking curiously as he heats up some of the leftovers in the microwave.

Tipping his head thoughtfully, the psychopath seems to genuinely think about the question. "I believe so. My circle of 'friends' is rather limited. Jasper, Alec, yourself, and possibly John."

Alec, he repeats, trying to figure out who that is before it clicks, Trevelyan. "You're friends with Trevelyan?"

"Of sorts, we enjoy discussing the way things explode and annoying the idiots who make equipment for us." Jim answers with a shrug, "I wouldn't say we are good friends, but still friends. My loyalty is to Jasper, and if ever given a choice between Alec and Jasper, I will always pick Pike."

That makes sense, psychopaths don't really bond well. He has done a lot of research on the topic since Jim entered his life. He's curious after all. Curiosity is the one thing he has never lost, even when everything else seemed a bit hopeless.

"Jasper, Alec, James, and John all think of you as a friend." The agent tells him as the other genius hops off the counter. "John and Jasper more than Alec and James, but you haven't known those two as long, and developing bonds for them is not much different than it is for me." Smirking, Jim offers, "I am the only psychopath in our little group." Tipping his head thoughtfully, the psychopath comments, "Bastian likes you too, wouldn't mind a rematch in the relatively near future."

He finds himself laughing again, because he has spent several days with Jim at a flat with others not speaking, and this is the first time he has heard the name of the person he played against for hours. It's just a bit amusing.

"I texted the detective." He eventually remarks, after he finishes eating.

"Interesting," Jim hums, looking at him speculatively. "I wasn't expecting you to make the first move."

He ducks his head and blushes, muttering, "I can do something they couldn't."

"Very true. Boring people are well, boring. They're so very ordinary." The psychopath complains. "It's probably a good thing Jasper got me out if the criminal aspects of my life years ago, because the criminal class is so very dull and I would have easily been bored to suicide."

"You would have taken a lot of people with you." He comments, knowing that Jim is the sort who would burn the world down for the fun of it.

Shrugging, the agent doesn't answer, which is answer enough.

"Do you think he'll accept the offer to help?" he hesitantly asks, still rather unsure of himself.

"He'd be an idiot not to." Jim tells him seriously.

They fall silent and spend the next several hours alternating between sign language and reading. He's very pleased to be speaking again, although he finds it is making his throat scratchy because the has been so long, so it's unadjusted to doing so.

He's mildly surprised when the detective shows up just before dinner, with a few folders under his arm.

"Come in," Jim tells the sergeant, dark eyes sweeping over the harried looking man.

"Good afternoon," the cop replies as he steps through the door, "I would like a word with Mr. Holmes."

Almost playfully, the psychopath asks, "Which one?"

That seems to stump the detective sergeant for only a moment before answering, "The one that walked through my crime scene yesterday. I would like to discuss how he knew what he knew."

"I observed," he states as he slides into view, head tipping to the side.

A moment later his brother slips through the door.

His brother glances between them, "Good evening detective sergeant, Sherlock, Moriarty."

He nods, not saying anything.

"Rather than stand here we should retire to the library," Mycroft suggests with a glance between them.

The four of them head towards the library. He studies the sergeant as they move, getting a feel for the dark haired detective. Married, looking at getting a divorce because he caught his wife cheating, bisexual, easy going, and ready for a promotion but not expecting one.

"Detective Sergeant Lestrade, what can our humble Sherlock do for you?" Jim asks, leaning a bit closers and reminding him of someone flirting.

Blinking, the cop's eyes flicker between them, "How did you know who the murderer was yesterday."

"I observed it," he repeats, having already answered that before.

"Yeah, but how?" There is something curious and just shy of disbelieving to the detective's voice.

"He did the same way we do, we look and know," Jim replies before he has a chance to say anything.

The four of them take seats, with psychopath perching on the edge of the detective's seat and making the cop nervous according to expression. His brother looks almost bored, and he wants to see what's in the folders.

"Do you belong to MI5 too?" Lestrade asks, looking between them expectantly.

"Not currently," he answers slowly, using both sign and aloud since he wasn't actually sure he was going to get it out.

"Is there a reason you are doing both?" The cop queries.

He opens his mouth to answer and finds his throat closing and nothing coming out. —There is no guarantee I will be able to speak.—

This is really annoying, he thinks, very, very annoying. Why can't he speak now? His throat feels a bit raw, maybe he's been speaking too much today. Fine, then he'll use sign language then.

The detective sergeant's brow furrows as he processes that.

"I belong to Five and Six," Jim answers with a lazy shrug, "Right now I'm helping with Sherlock as translator for days when he is not able to speak."

"Hmmmmm," the cop hums before holding the folder out to him, "Think you could look at these and know what happened?"

He nods slowly, getting up and taking the folders before glancing at them. Settling back in his seat, he looks through each, absently using ASL to comment that as he looks through them. Jim takes it as a sign to write it down, rising from his seating and going over to his brother's desk to pick up a notepad and pen.

His brother snorts, shaking his head.

It takes only a few minutes for him to go through the files, and his keeper writes out what he's saying before hand in him the paper to put with the file. He smiles almost bashfully at the psychopath as the agent takes the folders and hands them back to the cop.

"You're done already?" Lestrade asks in shock.

—Yes,— he replies, not bother with trying to say it aloud. —There is more than enough information to find each of them.—

"Alright, I'll take a look at it, if it ends up leading to arrests, I'll put in the paperwork to get you a consulting position for murders." The cop informs him with a nod.

He blinks, startled because he hadn't expected it to be that simple.

"It won't have the best pay, but it will be something," Lestrade remarks, glancing at each of them.

He just smiles, because it's something he can do, something other people can't. It uses his talents and differences to be useful, and someone will want him, if only for working, that's more than he can say from before all this began.

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

To my guest reviewer: If it was a paid for book, I would know people like it because they bought it. However, as its not, having few reviews tells me I have only a few people reading, and the rest are just backing out because they don't like it or find it uninteresting.


	54. Reactions

18th September 2005 into 19th September 2005  
John's POV  
He's mildly surprised when Ella messages him to tell him that Sherlock and Mr. Moriarty are here. He didn't expect to hear from them until later today. So something either went wrong while the two were out playing tag, or something went very right.

Five minutes later, Sherlock comings striding in the office with a wide smile. —I talked!—

He grins at the teenager, —Congrats!— he replies.

—I told a bunch of cops about a killer. Even pointed out the killer,— the dark haired genius tells him. —The idiot ran into Jim.—

He laughs, because he can imagine the very bored and dangerous expression the agent probably had on his face. —Did you enjoy it knowing what happened and who the killer was?—

Nodding energetically, Sherlock answers, —Yes, because I knew what happened just by looking.—

—That's excellent,— he responds, happy for the younger man. This is an important improvement and a step in the right direction. It's intriguing that it happened the way it did. He never would have guessed that a crime scene would be where Sherlock would start speaking again. It's not the normal sort of way to get over mutism, but there isn't really a standard. Each person dealing with mutism, whether it is selective or traumatic, get past it in different manners. The key is just a matter of giving them time and a safe space to recover. He's happy to know they have successfully provided that.

-Have you told Mycroft yet?- he asks curiously.

Sherlock just shakes his head no.

—Do you have a plan for that or just want wait?— He queries after a moment of thinking about it.

—Not yet,— the teenager replies, —Not until I am constantly talking.—

—That makes sense.— He agrees with a nod.

He hopes this is the first sign of true recovery. So far Sherlock has been making excellent progress, but he sometimes worries about it being undone. That's a very easily done with someone who's dealing with depression and addiction.

—Spending some time visiting or just stopping to tell me the good news?— he inquires with an easy smile.

It takes the younger man a moment to think about it. —Just stopping by.— There's a pause, —Come to dinner tomorrow?—

—Sure,— he agrees, —I'd like that.—

—See you tomorrow!— Sherlock declares before leaving.

He just smiles as the teenager takes off. He better get his work done so he can spend some time with them tomorrow. Snickering, he wonders if Sherlock remembers the fact they're supposed to meet this evening. It wouldn't be the first time that the younger man had gotten distracted by something and Jim canceled for him, although it's not a common occurrence.

-o-O-o-

Mycroft's POV  
He knows that his brother is out playing a game of tag with Moriarty. It makes him nervous, because his brother will be pretty much on his own. At the same time, he understands that Sherlock needs to feel secure in himself and that doesn't happen if there is always someone around.

Three hours into his work day, his computer screen clicks on even though he hadn't turned it on, a small video feed playing. Turning his attention to it, he frowns at first upon noticing the situation. That it's a group of spectators and a crime scene. However, he has to smile when he realizes that Sherlock is talking, and not just with sign language either but full out verbal words. It's the first time in nine months that his brother has spoken. The screen shuts off four minutes later as Sherlock and Moriarty leave, getting into a black car that he knows belongs to Five.

He spends a good five minutes pleased with that little bit of information, although he is stumped by the fact his brother's first words after such a long silence are at a crime scene.

"Sir, your next meeting is getting ready to begin," Ana tells him as she enters the office, eyes on her phone as she works.

"Excellent timing," he decides, "I'm on my way."

Technically, he'll be the first one in there, but he's now in a rather pleasant mood, and that's not going to be ruined by some bureaucrats who need to be guided to the correct answers without seeming to be guided. He'll think about the logistics, how to act towards his brother with this new development, and what effects it might have on Sherlock. He's under no illusions that this makes everything magically better, but it's definitely a step in the correct direction.

-o-O-o-

Jasper's POV  
He doesn't have to alert his best friend to where Sherlock is at. Jim had been close behind, working through the logic of where the teen was heading during their little game while he kept track of both of them through the CCTV's scattered around the city, occasionally borrowing private ones as much as the public ones.

When Sherlock heads towards the scene of a crime, rather than away from it and the noise that normally goes with such a situation, his eyes narrow on the screen and he wonders if he should tell Jim. Instead he doesn't, smiling when the younger man starts talking aloud, rattling off details if he's not mistaken. Sometimes he really wishes there was sound on the CCTV, but it's not that hard for him to turn on the teenager's cell phone microphone so he can hear what's being said instead.

Jim appears just as the suspect tries to bolt. Stepping directly in the big man's path and smiling in that reptilian way that so many find eerie and frightening. Needless to say, the suspect doesn't go far. Actually, he's pretty sure that the idiot has decided that the cops are a safer bet. He wouldn't be wrong. Jim doesn't take idiocy very well.

As he watches, he comes up with an idea. What if Sherlock ran point between the network and the police? He knows most of the network would rather avoid authorities at all costs, even the ones who haven't actually broken any laws. He's quite certain that Sherlock could pull it off. It's something to consider discussing with his younger cousin, not tonight though, because he can see the strain on the teenager through the cameras. Later though, sometime in the near future, he'll bring it up.

He starts laughing softly when his phone beeps with a message from Sherlock,

=Dinner tomorrow night?=

=Sure= he agrees, smiling at the phone. He probably shouldn't have his phone on him, but their bosses learned early on that Jim gets very testy if he can't be reached, and decided that having such a force of chaos not pissy is probably a good idea. Besides, his phone is one of his design, he'd like to see another hacker get in. To date none have been successful although most of the branch has tried at least once.

He sends Mycroft the video clip. Accessing the politician's computer with almost ease as he turns on the screen and shows it. He'll have to improve the system so it's not as easy to access in the future. He doesn't appreciate when other idiots try to 'fix' his designs and make things worse rather than better. There have been a few times he has crash coworkers systems for the presumption. Maybe that's not nice, but he really doesn't care. As for now, well, he has some work to do before he goes home tonight. Or maybe he'll go out for some fun, it's been awhile since he's done that.

-o-O-o-

Jim's POV  
He's surprised that the visit to the clinic is so short. Normally John and Sherlock will spend hours talking. It could be because it's the middle of the day however normally they come in during the evening. Speaking of which, there is an appointment later on, although, he's pretty sure it's going to be cancelled because the younger genius is on the high strung side right now.

Sure enough, as soon as they get back to the elder Holmes' flat, Sherlock heads to the bedroom and the sounds of the violin can be heard throughout the entire house. Well then.

A crime scene, now that's a very intriguing place for Sherlock to get his voice back. Of all the situations he had expected that wasn't even on the list. However it does open up a lot of possibilities for the teenager. Still, he had seen how only a few minutes of speaking had stressed the dark haired teen out. That's why he had used his MI5 card rather than talking his way out of it, and he definitely could have. None of them were even close to the same level as genius as he was.

Should he draw the detective to the flat? He wonders curiously as he toys with a knife he never seems to be without. It's not a bad idea. However, he decides, it'd be better to let Sherlock make that call, he can provide the number if need be. That detective was extremely interested in what the teen can do. The fact that Sherlock can read an entire situation with a glance.

"Ordinary people are so dull," he mutters as he heads to the library to do some reading. There has to be something interesting in there he hasn't read in the last few months. Actually, he changes direction, heading to his bedroom, he'll read the reports that Sebastian has for him, that should keep him occupied while allowing him to keep an ear out for Sherlock.

-o-O-o-

Greg's POV  
Who the hell was that kid and how the hell did he know who the killer was and what happened? His forensics team hasn't even finished their sweep of the area. The officers do arrest the man who the kid pointed out after the man tried bolting. Not that the killer got too far, apparently the person with the kid belongs to MI5, and that makes him wonder if the kid is an asset or informant. Something tells him it's neither and there is some other sort of relationship, he just doesn't know what it is.

He shoves those thoughts and questions aside, determining he can focus on them more later. After he has his crime scene is cleared, the suspect booked, and the paperwork done. Of course he'll have to figure out what to call the kid in the paperwork since he didn't get a name for either of the dark haired men.

It's early the following morning when he gets a text message that involves an address and an offer to look at cold cases to tell him what happened. That startles him for a moment, until he remembers the MI5 card and it makes him wonder if the kid got his number from his contact in the agency. He really doesn't like playing with them, most of them act like they are better than anyone else, and that agent who gave him the card made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. There was definitely something off with him.

Well then, in the morning he'll get some of the cold cases together. Ones that his division says can't be solved for one reason or another, and see what the kid can say about them. If the kid can pull off that impressive trick, and solve them, he'll find a way to get the kid a consulting offer. There have been consultants in the past, although they tend towards a particular field rather than an open offer. Still, it all depends on how it goes later today.

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

This is winding down, there is six chapters left (or so). There will be other stories in the series, I just won't start posting them until they are done, then I will post one chapter a week.


	55. Last Meeting as a Patient

4th November 2005  
Sherlock's POV  
Today is his last meeting with John as a patient. He's both excited and terrified. They're friends, and he wants to stay friends, but he's not sure how to be friends with anyone. According to Jim and Jasper, they're friends as well. So he has three friends? After today's meeting he won't have a sitter any more, which is just a conclusion to the slow withdraw back to regular work as an agent that Jim has been doing.

He's nervous, he realizes, scared of what will happen next.

Only, he tips his head as he stares out the window of the car, if he wants something more with John, he has to not be a patient. Jasper was pretty clear with that when they discussed it a few weeks previously. Right now it would not be anywhere near ethical for something to happen, and John is the most ethical one in their small circle.

That is a very true fact. Beyond being the most ethical, John's also the most honest and caring.

He closes his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to clear his mind before the car pulls to a stop.

"Ready?" Jim queries, not yet reaching for the door.

"Yes," he agrees, eyes opening as he opens the door.

The two of them slip from the car, heading into the building while it pulls away.

"Jasper's hosting dinner tonight, once you two are done come over." Jim almost orders him, lilting voice full of good humor.

"Okay," he agrees, heading inside while the psychopath takes off in a different direction.

He no longer has a sitter, he thinks as the door closes behind him.

—Hello Ella,— he greets the receptionist.

—Good afternoon, go on back, he's waiting for you.— She replies with a warm smile.

—Thank you,— he responds as he walks past her. He's the last appointment of the actual work day.

He's been here a lot in the months since his brother decided that this would be the best treatment for him. Spent more time here than any other patient from what he has gathered. Of course, he also knows that most patients are evaluated by John and then passed on to one of the other doctors, with John looking in on their care and recovery or adaptation during their treatment occasionally. John only has two other patients that see him only.

When he had first learned that he was jealous, right up until he discovered that the first patient was a ten year old boy who lost his hearing due to trauma, while the other is an older woman who has difficult time because she has been slowly losing her hearing to a genetic condition, and is getting help before it's totally gone.

Pressing the button outside the door, he waits for John to turn it off before slipping in the office.

—Hello John,— he happily greets the blonde doctor.

—Good evening Sherlock, please, sit, — John replies with a smile.

Nodding, he settles in his seat, and waits for the doctor to finish what smaller man was working on.

Less than five minutes later, John closes everything down. —Well Sherlock, it's been almost five months since you first came here as a patient. —

He nods in agreement.

—Would you like me to set you up with one of the doctors who works with those fighting depression? — John asks gently.

He shakes his head, —No. I,— he pauses for a moment, —I don't think it will be much of a problem now that I have a, — he pauses again, —support network. It's nice having friends. — He blushes as he admits that fact.

—Yes you do,—the doctor agrees with a grin, —and yes it is. —

They sit for a few minutes in peace and quiet, something he appreciates about his relationships with John, Jasper, and maybe Alec. All three accept just being in the same room without speaking. He's noticed that John and Jasper tend to keep working on whatever they were doing. Alec would watch a movie or listen to music.

—How do you feel about your relationship with Mycroft? — his friend asks curiously.

He shrugs, thinking about it before trying to come up with more of an answer. His relationship with his brother has changed a lot over the last eleven months from the time that Mycroft found him to now. They're almost friends. Of course he thought that once before, and look where that _got_ him. Only, he hesitates, this time his brother is actively _trying_ even if he doesn't understand why. It's something he has wondered about since Mycroft brought him home and took him to see John that first time.

—It's better? — he slowly answers, —I thought we were friends before, and,— he shrugs, at a loss for words to explain it.

Slowly John nods in understanding, —Things didn't go the way you expected. You were betrayed by someone who you trusted.—

—Yes. — that he can agree with wholeheartedly.

Several more minutes pass in silence as he continues to think about the situation between him and his brother. At one point of his life, he wanted his brother to care about him more than anything. Now though, well, he would like to be friends with his brother but at this point it isn't necessary.

—Have you had any urges to find drugs lately? — his friend asks.

He shakes his head, Jim, Jasper, and Lestrade have been keeping him occupied in order to keep him from that. — No. I've had too many other things to think about.—

—That's a good thing,— John remarks with a nod.

—Yes,— he agrees with a nod. —I like having puzzles to solve. Most of the puzzles Lestrade bring me are not all that challenging, but they give me a reason to do experiments.—

—That's good. — the doctor comments, then curiously asks, —Do you have a favorite case or situation so far?—

Does he have a favorite case? He muses about that question. There have been several different cases he found intriguing until realizing how dull they really were. So far he hasn't been asked to work on any new cases. He's sure that Lestrade is just waiting to see well the evidence and proof he provides through deductions work in court and then maybe he'll be allowed fresh crime scenes.

Biting his lip, he realizes another reason Lestrade might not have let him on new crime scenes: he's a recovering drug addict. No never mind it's been eleven months since the last time he got high. Maybe the detective is waiting to see if he relapses again. Sadly, he can't say it's not possible, as he is well aware he's come close on a few occasions only to get stopped by Jim or Jasper. But it's been months since the last time he tried.

Once he started going over cold cases and doing in between for the network and the cops, he stopped thinking about that actively. He can't say he's been craving free, only that he's been able to push it away and focus on other things.

—Triple murder locked room case, — he eventually answers. —It was the teenage daughter.—

John nods thoughtfully, asking, —How was it a locked room murder if it was the teenage daughter? —

He grins, launching into an explanation about how she set the entire situation up to keep it from being solved and how close she was to succeeding since it has been several years since the murder. It all came down to a single air vent.

—That's brilliant, you figured the entire situation out from notes and pictures?— his friend asks curiously.

Nodding, he answers, —Notes, pictures, and a few samples someone was bright enough to get. Although Jim made noises about it being sloppy.—

The blonde chuckles, because they have both gotten a chuckle out of Jim's rants about people not smart enough to do something properly. If you're going to break the law, at least do it in a manner that isn't easily solved or interesting. Also, emotional reasons for killing are bor-ring, so they need to just stop.

—Well Sherlock, I think I can sign off on the release paperwork the rehab center was concerned about regarding you with a clear conscience.— John tells him as he opens a folder and signs a few documents, —I'd like to remain friends and still see each other socially.—

If someone was to ask, he wouldn't be able to explain how that statement made him feel relieved. He was worried, whether or not he wanted to admit it, that he was going to lose his first friend as he stopped therapy.

—I'd like that,— he agrees with a grin.

—Great,— there's a pause as both their phones chime at the same time. Although John's also vibrates so he can feel it since he can't hear it. —Apparently Jim wants to know how much long this is going to be.—

—He left to cause mischief, I'm sure that Pike has told him to collect us for dinner since I was supposed to extend an invitation.— he responds with a snicker.

—Well then, we best not keep our friendly psychopath waiting too long, he might cause more mischief.— His friend jokes as the blonde stands up.

—Hungry?—he asks as they leave the office, happy that this part of it is done, now maybe he can work on changing John's perspective of him from patient –friend to something more intimate.

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	56. A Case and Unexpected Friendship

Sherlock's POV  
Miami is far hotter than he was expecting it to be. It's almost as if the humidity level doubles the heat index even though he knows that is scientifically impossible. They got here three days ago, and almost immediately the Wildcard was up to mischief, in other words: his purpose here. Unfortunately that left him trying to decide what to do.

It's during a random walk while he learns about the city and gets a feel for the street layout that he runs across a lady with her husband. A simple glance tells him all he needs to know about the pair. Including the fact that she isn't happy with her husband, and then the fact that he is involved in several different types of crimes.

Well then, he decides, something for me to do. I can prove his crimes to the police force, and get him dealt with.

Grinning, he selects a pair of homeless boys he sees lurking nearby, and decides to offer them a bit of a job. Since he's not as familiar with Miami as he is with London, he can't tell where they have been with just a look but he can get them followed, and gather information that way.

Blending with the other people moving along the street, he stops beside the pair and asks, "How would you like to make some money?"

"I'm not a prostitute," the taller one retorts.

"How?" The shorter one demands.

"See that couple?" he motions to the woman and man leaving one of the stores with nothing in their hands.

"Yeah?" the smaller one replies almost hesitantly, "You're not gonna rob them are ya?"

"No," he answers with a shake of his head, "I just think that that man has done something shady and I want to prove it. Just follow them for today, and text me the addresses they go, and I'll pay you for it."

The taller one looks suspicious of him, like he's up to no good, but eventually nods.

The smaller one shrugs, muttering, "I don't have a phone."

Well that could put a small hamper on his plans. Alright then, change of plans, he decides as he glances about, spotting a dollar store not too far away.

"Stay here," he comments.

Turning on the balls of his feet, he heads to the store where he picks up two different throw away phones and four of the biggest minute cards available. It doesn't take him long to get both activated and ready to go. He then programs his number in. Returning to the pair, he hands over the phones.

"You can keep them," he tells them, "I'll still pay you as well."

The pair that he was interested in have moved on to another store. Now the woman is carrying a single bag, but she looks like she'd really rather be anywhere else but here.

Jaimi - Today 9:06 PM  
The boys shrug, but the smaller one agrees a moment later, "You better not be lyin'."

He keeps himself from laughing at the thinly veiled threat, thinking, some of the people I get along with best are agents from MI6 and one of them is a psychopath with a serious lack of morals. This kid isn't a threat in comparison.

It's interesting to watch the way the two have a quick and silent conversation. They're not brothers, but they are good friends, and they try to look out for each other. However the lure of money is one they really can't resist, making him wonder when the last time they had solid meals or a stable home. Not that it matters.

Almost as soon as they're done with the conversation they split off, and he realizes why as he glances over them again. This way they can 'run into each other' because they had completed their own errands or whatever and not because they were following him.

Over the next eight hours he gets a series a text messages from both boys, some or nothing more than address and lengths of time they stayed, but some also include important people the man left met up with after left his wife behind at a strip club behind.

So he was right that she's an exotic dancer, he wasn't sure he was reading the markers right. He's not really gone to strip clubs as they aren't his thing.

Shaking his head, he goes back to reading the rest of the messages, the ones that reveal that the man is a member of organized crime in some fashion.

Grinning, he comes up with a way to get in and see what he can find before heading towards the address of the strip club.

=Going to a strip club.= he messages Jim, including the address in the message.

=Must be a case.= JM

=Yes.= SH

=Don't do anything I wouldn't do.= JM

He snorts at that statement. He's pretty sure there is nothing that the psychopath wouldn't do to accomplish his goals, whether legal or not. Particularly since he knows it is Jasper who is the moral guidance of the pair. Although, he pauses just a bit away from the door, John has more morals than Jasper, and they are the nicest of their little group of six when including the 'other two' as Jim likes to call them.

Lazy, wealthy teenager looking to have a good time, he decides, changing his posture to one he's seen plenty of idiots use while he was doing his brief stint in uni. Actually, he might go back when they get back to London. He's sure he can find something that would help him improve his skills, and he knows John would be pleased to hear he is finishing the degree he started before trying to kill himself. That's something to think about later, when he isn't going to 'befriend' a woman so he can discover what crimes her husband has performed.

Inside the club, he glances around and doesn't see the woman in the main room, so he makes his way through the club and manages to slip into the back where he finds her talking with some of the stripers. He stays quiet and listens to the conversation, coming to the realization that she is giving the ladies suggestions for dancing. So she is no longer a dancer but gives the dancers advice. Well then, that's interesting.

Once the ladies are one talking, he makes his way to her. "Hi," he greets her, "could you maybe give me some advice for where I could find a job dancing? I'm Sherlock."

She blinks at him, head tipping to the side as she studies him, "Why are you asking me?"

"Well," he hems, "I saw you earlier today, and I just saw you as I was walking down the street come in here, so I thought you might know."

She studies him for a long moment, a thoughtful expression in her eyes before she responds, "Some reason I'm sure you're trying to play a game on me."

He shakes his head, trying for innocent as he explains, "No, I just want to earn some extra money since I seem to have gone through all of my allowance and don't want to call my brother to have him wire me more." He shudders, remembering all the times his brother had made him feel like an idiot, "He's not a very nice brother sometimes." Of course things are a lot better now, but that isn't the point.

"Why dancing?" she nearly demands, hand on hip as she waits for an answer.

He grins, motioning down his body, "I get watched a lot, why not get paid to get watched?"

That seems to startle a chuckle out of her, and she loops their arms together, "Well Sherlock, maybe I can find something else besides dancing. I get the feeling you're actually a private person. So dancing wouldn't work all that well for you."

Over the course of the next week, he gets to know the older woman, Martha Hudson, and her husband Frank. He spends quite a bit of time with her, and in relation, with her husband when he's actually around.

Of course he pays the two boys for their assistance that first day, and uses Martha's computer to figure out where every one of the locations is at so he can gather evidence against the husband. More than that, he falsifies the logs so it appears that they were created by Frank, and asks Jasper to double check his work since hacking isn't his strong suit. Apparently there was only one spot that he was wrong about.

In the process of gathering all this information, he makes a startling discovery, one he hadn't expected: Frank was responsible for the death of two men directly that the police had been trying to find the murderer.

Well then, that's just handy.

It takes another two weeks before he can prove it, and he probably would have forgotten to eat or sleep if not for the subtle reminders from Jasper and Mrs. Hudson occasionally providing food and ordering him to eat.

For some reason, during this time Jim was surprisingly absent. A mildly surprising fact because he knows how much the psychopath doesn't like the heat, it messes with his suits. It's only after he is able to make sure all the evidence is discovered by the police and insure that Frank will get the death penalty that the agent reappears.

"Where have you been?" he queries curiously.

"Waiting for you to get done, I had a few other tasks I could deal with while here." Jim answers lazily. "I see you made a friend."

He's startled by that assessment, even more startled to realize that it's true.

"Give her your number so when she gets back to London she can give you a call, and we can get the hell out of this place." The psychopath suggests.

He just laughs, nodding in agreement. He wants to get home. John's at home and he wants to tell John all about how this case went.

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi


	57. Check Up

****Author's Note:** this takes place several months after the last check up, Mycroft and John have been meeting on whatever available Wednesday evening though Sherlock is no longer seeing John as a patient.  
**

* * *

Mycroft's POV  
He dislikes the fact his brother is currently in Florida with Moriarty. At the same time, he understands why it was suggested his brother go. It gives his brother a chance to come into himself and be out from his watchful eyes. At the same time he is worried, because it was him not watching his brother that led to the situation they have just got out of.

Of course, if he is being honest, it wasn't just the fact he wasn't watching out for Sherlock. It was also because he cut his brother off. Stopped talking to him, stopped communicating with him, bullied his brother, and allowed others to mistreat him as well.

Today is Wednesday, like every other Wednesday he's been in London for the last several months, he's heading to the clinic to speak with Doctor Watson. He's been slowly trying to change some of the bad habits he has developed over the last few years.

It annoys him that he just can't stop, despite the fact he's a genius. Thankfully, Doctor Watson has been willing to work with him, without taking actual notes so he doesn't have to worry about someone else getting into them. The fact he's in therapy could cause issues for his career, yet the doctor has considered it more of a continuation of Sherlock's therapy. He's continuing it to update the doctor on his brother's progress.

The car comes to a stop as his driver stops in front of the clinic.

"I will be done in one hour." He informs his driver before sliding out.

Heading to the door, he is met by the doctor who let's him in before locking it back up.

—Good morning Mycroft,— John greets him.

—Good morning John, — he replies after a moment hesitation.

—How are you faring with Sherlock out of the house?— the blonde inquires curiously.

He settles into his seat, thinking about the question for a long minute before answering it. —I do not like the fact he is there with Moriarty.— he pauses for a long moment, —I have to admit I understand why however. —

—Did you and Jim ever figure out what you are?— the doctor asks curiously.

—Not friends.— He answers shortly.

—That I've gathered,— John remarks with a snicker, —You two are not well suited personality wise.—

—That is a fact. — He agrees with a quick nod.

Several minutes pass in silence. John works on paperwork, probably his, while he considers exactly what sort of relationship he has with

—How have you been otherwise?—

He thinks about that question, not giving the automatic answer he'd give most people. How has he been lately? He's been under stress but that's nothing new. There have been a lot more idiots in politics than he appreciates, also not new. He's concerned about his brother and that there will be a relapse, a situation he has discussed with John on several occasions. It's hard not to worry about it when his brother could so easily fall back into that life. Logically he understands the chances are fairly slim, his brother has the support network he's always needed and previously didn't have.

He also has to acknowledge that him and their parents did a piss-poor job with Sherlock. Emotionally, and that's something he hates to admit to having, he regrets the fact his actions were a large part of what drove his brother to such extremes. He grudgingly has to admit that his brother has depression and as it was left untreated it just compounded the issue. Of course, that goes with everything he has felt guilty about concerning himself and his parents. It's all part of the same issue.

— Decent, — he eventually states, —It could be better, but it has not been worse.—

Smiling, the blonde responds, —That's a good thing then. —

The light in the corner of the desk flashes and the doctor presses the off button, letting the person know they can come inside the office. A moment later, one of the nurses slips in with a tray that has tea and snacks.

He bites back a chuckle when the nurse chastises John for skipping meals, says a polite hello to him, and leaves.

—Your staff likes you and cares about what happens to you.— He comments with a smile of his own.

—She's rather motherhen-like, does it to pretty much everybody on the staff. I just get it the most because I'm the only single one with no other family to speak of.— the doctor wryly responds, eyes dancing with mirth.

He nods, considering that statement. He's well aware of the doctor's history, from the abusive household, to the distant relatives that provided the start up for this practice. —You do have friends however, so you are not totally alone.—

Grinning, John nods in agreement, —That I do. I count you among them, although I am fairly certain you don't count me as such.—

Startled, he freezes, studying the blonde for a long moment before slowly nodding and stating, —I believe you are right, we are friends. —

Friends, not a word he ever expected to have in regards to himself. It is something he will have to consider in detail later, when he has some 'free time' or maybe when he has some down time between dealing with other situations and fires that need put out.

—Although,— he's sure his expression is mischievous, —Your choice in friends is sometimes,— he pauses thoughtfully, —questionable.—

John bursts out laughing, a rough sound that is still rather pleasant to hear, and he wonders when the last time he told a joke that was considered honestly funny, without getting the false sort of response.

—Of course you find them questionable, they love to buck authority and that's your favorite thing, being the one giving orders.— The blonde replies after he gets himself back under control.

He just grins, not responding to that statement of fact.

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

So, there is exactly 3 chapters left in this story


	58. Dinner Party

*waves* hello folks! I had a headache on Friday, so I though I posted this, but apparently I hadn't as I realized half hour ago when I took a look at AO3/FF. Oops. Anyways, I hope everyone enjoys! **  
**

* * *

 _Sherlock's POV_  
He's full of nervous energy as the plane touches down in the London airport they are flying into. It's been almost four months since he was in London. While he ended up enjoying his time in Florida and having fun with the case he inadvertently found, even enjoyed making a new friend. It's still surprising concept after so long not having friends and now he has several, including the psychopath he's currently travelling with.

—I'd suggest calming down, but I don't think it would do any good.— Jim remarks causally in ASL.

He blinks, focusing on his fellow genius for a moment. —You're happy to be back too.—

Shrugging, the psychopath comments, —As happy as I ever am. It's not exactly one of the emotions I excel with. Satisfied would be a better name for it. Field work is boring.—

He chuckles, not bothering to point out that Jim probably could have turned whatever it was down.

—Do you miss Jasper?— he asks curiously.

Tipping his head, the dark eyed agent seems to consider it for a long moment before replying. —Yes. Someone needs to make sure he eats and offer an ear when the idiots are idiots.—

—Along with offering to destroy them? — he queries with a snicker.

—Psychopathic best friends aren't inclined to being nice when dealing with idiots.— Jim retorts with a smirk.

His chuckle turns into a full laughter, and he keeps laughing until it's time to disembark from the plane. This trip has definitely been interesting in ways he hadn't expected. He's happy he went.

-o-O-o-

 _Mycroft's POV_  
He's happy that his brother will be home today. He even made it a point to take the day off so he will be able to visit with Sherlock for a bit. So he is surprised when he gets a text message just before the plane is to land from Jasper.

=My flat in Bloomsbury in one hour, dress comfortably, it's a bit of a welcome back party.=

He snorts, shaking his head and deciding that must be why Sherlock said he didn't need a ride. Well then, what can he whip up or buy that's worth eating to take as part of the 'welcome home' party? While his cousin didn't say it was a potluck or anything of that nature, it's only right that he provides something since part of this is for his brother. He was originally going to ask if Sherlock wants to eat at his favorite restaurant.

Actually, he smirks, quickly dialing the number and hitting send, he'll pick up his brother's favorite take out.

-o-O-o-

 _John's POV_  
He hums as he finishes making the fresh bread that he's taking over to Jasper's for the welcome home dinner. He's already got the cheese and meat tray made up. Between him and James, they have figured out a complete menu. Of course the spy is doing a lot more cooking than him, and he's pretty sure that most of it is to impress a certain hacker but he's staying out of that mess. Those three need to seriously figure out how to talk to each other. Not like it's going to happen any time soon.

Shaking his head, he smiles ruefully, he can understand the problem however. Even if he thinks it's silly. He has his own emotional dilemma to deal with: what to do about the fact he is attracted to Sherlock who was just recently his patient? They should sit down and talk about it, but it's not something he is going to bring up any time soon. Nope, not happening. That's one topic he'll let Sherlock start with. That way he doesn't feel like he is pressuring his friend.

-o-O-o-

 _Alec's POV  
_ He frowns in concentration as he tries to figure out what to take over to Jasper's place for dinner tonight. They'll be heading over in the next few minutes so James can do a bunch of cooking since Jasper can't cook and neither can Mycroft to his knowledge. Which makes him wonder if it's a genetic disposition or something, it also makes him wonder if Sherlock can cook.

"Jas has everything for me to cook at the flat. Apparently he sent a minion shopping." James comments as the slightly smaller man fits himself behind him and nibbles on his ear.

Grinning, he leans back into his partner and lover, replying, "I still don't know what to bring. I feel like should be bringing something."

"Whiskey, vodka, tequila, rum, schnapps gin," each suggestion is punctuated by a nip or kiss along the column of his throat.

"None of that now," he murmurs straightening and stepping away. "Jasper's waiting on us."

Sighing, his long time lover agrees, "True. Let's go."

His eyes fall on the cupboard where Q's teas are at for the rare occasions the hacker ends up over here, and he grins. There's that box of new tea he picked up while in India last month, he hasn't had a chance to take that to the hacker yet. This would be a perfect time to do so, and maybe that one he picked up while in Japan that he's been saving for a special occasion. Perfect.

-o-O-o-

 _Jim's POV_  
He's looking forward to relaxing in an environment he doesn't have to concern himself with the security of. They better not have anything for him to do in the next week because he plans on relaxing at home or Jasper's place.

He smirks when he spots Sebastian as they exit the plane waiting for them.

"Our rides here," he murmurs, not sure Sherlock will actually hear him.

"'Basitan isn't it?" the teen asks curiously.

"Technically Sebastian, but I call him 'Bastian more often than not." He replies with a shrug.

"Do we need to get our bags?" Sherlock queries with a glance towards baggage claim.

"Nope," he answers, popping the 'p' sound. "There's a minion doing that. Don't worry, the minions are smart enough not to try going in them."

Nodding, his at one time charge doesn't say anything else.

The trip to the car is quiet, as is the trip to Jasper's flat, which is slightly surprising. There are times that Sherlock gets talking, and it's almost like the younger man is trying to make up for all the times he had no one to talk to. At other times, Sherlock stays quiet, and it's like he's afraid to speak. Thankfully, that seems to becoming less and less common.

He's considered paying Victor and John's parents visits, but his partner has forbade him from doing that. He's also been told no using the networks to do it either. Jasper even went as far as to tell Sebastian no too. Spoilsport.

Smiling, he tips his head back on the seat and just relaxes, considering what his carefully worded report will be in the morning to the old woman. He likes her better than he likes the idiot in charge of Five. Mostly because she's no-nonsense sort of personality and makes him think of napalm when she is angry.

-o-O-o-

 _James' POV_  
When they arrive at Q's flat, he is pleased to see that no one else is there yet. He likes the quiet times when it's just the three of them. He's not sure why sometimes, because he never feels like he can say the right thing when it comes to Jasper.

Giving a small shake of his head, he flashes an easy smile at the hacker, asking, "So, where's the food?"

"There's this thing called a kitchen," Jasper retorts, lips curving at the edges of a smirk. "You might have heard of them, as you know how to cook better than me."

Alec laughs long and hard at his side.

He shoves his fellow spy almost playfully, before heading towards the kitchen. Since this isn't the first time he has used Q's kitchen, he knows where everything he's going to need is at. As he sets to going through the supplies, he laughs at the fact there seems to be far more than is actually needed for this particular meal.

"Were you threatening the minion who did the shopping or something?" he calls out curiously.

"No, zhe wanted to make sure I had everything I would possibly need plus a little bit extra just in case. I am not sure if zhe was trying to earn brownie points or what. Particularly as zhe volunteered for the task of fetching it before I even had a chance to pick a minion." The hacker answers from the doorway where he's standing with an amused Alec.

He just laughs, finishing separating everything out for cooking.

"Sherlock and Jim will be here in just over an hour." Jasper remarks as he glances at his phone.

"I'll have it ready on time," he reassures the younger man with a warm smile. "Just watch."

"I have complete faith that you will," Q replies seriously.

That sends a thrill of warmth through him and he shares a quick look with Alec. Maybe things aren't as hopeless as they seem. Nah, he's just imagining things, there is no way that Jasper thinks of either of them as something more than friends.

-o-O-o-

 _Jasper's POV_  
He enjoys watching the way James and Alec move around his kitchen. He was summarily kicked out as the two of them get to work slicing and dicing and cooking. Well, Alec is slicing and dicing, James is cooking. Still, it's a sight he is definitely enjoying.

He turns towards the door, smirking when his best friend comes striding in like Jim owns the place. Not far behind is Sherlock and Sebastian discussing some game that both have played. Not something he'd be interested in then.

—Having a good time? — the psychopath queries with a quick flick of his fingers and a glance, using their version of sign rather than any standardized type the others would be able to easily understand.

—Immensely.— He answers, —You know me.—

Nodding, his best friend settles on one of the chairs, —Exactly. Try informing them. They're slow.—

He laughs, drawing the attention of the two spies in the kitchen but ignoring them, —No.—

"Tch," his friend grumbles, "Field work is bor-ring, too many people I'd like to introduce to Darwin."

He laughs harder, that is definitely something his best friend would think is a brilliant idea. Of course, they spent a lot of the time the two were in Florida speaking via the intercoms or via the laptops.

"So, Sherlock, how'd you like your first case not related to anything we do or the yard?" he asks the youngest person in the flat, deciding to change the topic.

"It was," there is a pause, as if the teenager is thinking about his answer, "good. I made sure that they had enough evidence to put the man to death."

"See, helping Darwin," Jim inserts with a snicker.

Sherlock chuckles as he ducks his dark head in what appears to be embarrassment according to expression. He doesn't know why the teen would be embarrassed.

"Darwin often needs help," Alec chimes in from the kitchen, "It's an excellent reason to blow everything up sometimes, just to make sure no one is missed."

"Exactly," Jim hums in agreement.

Sighing, he shakes his head, "Do you see what I have to deal with?" he asks almost playfully. He really does enjoy the banter.

Sherlock's chuckle becomes a full blown laugh, which makes him smile. Sebastian says nothing on the topic, the sniper just grins in amusement. Alec shrugs with a smirk curving his lips. James snorts, not bothering to comment as he keeps cooking.

"Please," Jim drawls, "you love it. You need someone in your life to boss around."

"I don't know if you noticed but I have plenty of people to boss around when I'm at work, you three are like herding cats." He retorts, heading towards his door when his phone chimes at him.

Heading downstairs, he waves merrily at John when he spots the doctor getting out of the car he sent to pick the blonde up. —Hi John. Come on up, I don't think you've been to this flat yet.—

—Good evening Jasper, how are you?— the smaller man queries as they turn towards the door, only to stop when Mycroft's car pulls up.

—I'm good, there's a herd of cats in my flat.— he replies with a grin.

"Mycroft," he greets his cousin as the taller man slides out of the car.

"Jasper," the politician responds smoothly, —Hello John.—

—Mycroft,— the doctor replies with a grin. —Ready for a flat full of cats?—

—Is that what we are calling them?— Mycroft queries almost haughtily, —It is an apt description I think.—

—Most definitely.— he agrees.

Without saying anything else, the three of them head inside where they find the sniper setting the table while his younger cousin is sprawled on the sofa and Jim is lounging in one of his armchairs lazily.

—Hi John!— Sherlock states as he practically jumps to his feet, a smile on his young face.

Glancing between the pair, he's quite sure there is something going on, or going to be going on here soon. His eyes have barely left them when they fall on his best friend who has that smirk that means he's going to be a little shit. It should make for an interesting night.

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

So, there is exactly 3 chapters left in this story


	59. Almost Awkward Discussion

Sherlock's POV  
He enjoys the welcome home dinner, finds the banter fun, and is surprisingly comfortable in his own skin. When they get done eating and visiting, he rides home with his brother. It's an over all good night.

He doesn't realize how exhausted he was until he wakes up and checks his phone, startled to discover that he slept for nearly sixteen hours, it's nearly seven pm. Stretching, he gets out of bed and grabs a change of clothes before getting a quick shower. He wants to talk with John about them, their friendship and if it could be something more. He wants it to be something more so very much.

Once he is ready, he sends a quick text to his brother, mostly so not to panic Mycroft, before leaving the flat and flagging down the first cab he sees. Absently he rattles off the clinics address and spends the ride staring out the window as he calls to mind what each street and alley they pass or drive on.

"Thanks," he mutters as he pays the man before heading to the door and pressing the doorlight. It's after business hours so he uses the side door, the one closer to the back and the stairs to John's flat.

Just a little after two minutes have passed, his friend opens the door, a questioning look on his face until their eyes meet.

—Hello Sherlock, come in,—John greets him warmly, —I wasn't actually expecting you today, figured you'd spend it resting and getting back into the flow of things.—

He grins, replying, —I slept all day, but I really wanted to talk to you.—

They don't say anything else as they head upstairs to the flat above the clinic.

—Tea?— his friend queries before turning towards the small kitchen area.

—Please,— he agrees with a smile. He loves John's tea more than anyone else he knows.

While the blonde makes their drinks, he prowls around the living room before finally settling on the sofa. He's hoping that John will sit beside him rather than in one of the armchairs, but doesn't know at this point. John's one of the few people who sometimes confuses him when he tries to understand what's going on. Mostly because the doctor doesn't do what's expected most the time.

A few minutes later the shorter man brings their teas out, setting them on the coffee table and settling beside him on the sofa.

—What do you want to talk about?— John asks curiously, watching him with those intelligent slate colored eyes.

—Will you date me?— he practically blurts.

That seems to startle his friend who just blinks at him in shock for what seems like forever rather than answering. Shit, he's just ruined their friendship. He didn't want to ruin their friendship, he wanted something more. Why is he such an idiot when it comes to emotions?

"Sherlock," John's rough voice cuts through the panic and thoughts racing circles in his mind.

Not looking up at his friend he mutters, "Yeah?" before remembering the fact John is deaf, and blushing for doing something so silly.

It takes him several long moments to get his thoughts at least a little bit under control before he looks up, —Yes John?—

—We're friends, that's not going to change. But you have to understand, at least for now, there can't be anything else.— The blonde explains gently, expression open and sincere.

—Why?— he demands, not liking that answer, because what has he done wrong now?

—That, for one thing,— John replies, —You're still a teenager, with the moods to match. You were my patient not event five months ago. And someone recovering from an addiction should take at least a year without making any really big emotional changes in their life. Because if those changes fail, they can make it too easy to fall back into bad habits.—

—That won't happen to me, we'd be brilliant together. You actually listen to me and pay attention and care.— He retorts almost pleading.

—It can happen to anyone Sherlock. So no, I will not date you at this time. If in the future after you've turned twenty you want to discuss it again,— the shorter man pauses for a moment as if finding exactly the right words. —If you want to discuss it then, I would be more than willing to do so. I appreciate our friendship and don't want to lose it. Can we be friends?—

It's his turn to pause and think of the right words. He wants to argue the point, but it strikes him that would be proving John's point. He doesn't want to just be a teenager. He wants to prove that he's more mature than that. That means he has to respect John's decision even though he doesn't like it. he wants to stay friends too but will they actually stay friends or will things get awkward between them because he asked John out?

Absently, he worries his lower lip as he thinks about the points made. He's known others who have gone through rehab and therapy, they've all been told no new major relationships too. So he's not sure why he's in shock. He shouldn't be in shock. John's a good doctor, a good doctor would do the healthy and safe thing, and that means no dating.

Nodding, he blinks a few times and looks around when he doesn't immediately see John.

—I made you fresh tea since the other one got cold,— the blonde tells him after setting the mugs down.

—Thank you,— he replies. —I was thinking about what you said. I don't like it, but you're right.—

John smiles at him warmly, —Thank you.—

—Thank you?— he repeats, confused because that definitely wasn't the reaction he was expecting.

—Yes, thank you.— His friend repeats, then explains —You could have pitched a fit, you could have decided you didn't want to be friends any more, you could have gotten sad about this, you could have refused to think about it from any perspective besides your own. Instead you took the time to think it through and decided to accept my answer.—

"Oh," he mutters, he hadn't thought of it quite like that. —You're welcome.— Almost hesitantly he asks, —You're not mad at me are you?—

—Of course not,— John answers, —You asked politely, you thought about the answer I gave you, you stopped yourself from throwing a bit of a strop.—

—I'm not stroppy.— he retorts, he would have grumbled it if they weren't using sign language.

Grinning, John just shakes his head. —Why don't you tell me about your time in Florida? What all you did and the people you met and the things you observed.—

He nods, launching into describing everything starting with the first day they were there. He has close to four months worth of information to share. He hadn't wanted to talk about it too much last night because there was too many people, but maybe John will appreciate hearing all about it. Has John been to Florida? He'll have to ask, later, not right now, right now he's busy going on about the minor cases he solved. He'll get to the big one, the Hudson case, here in a bit.

If nothing else, he's still got his friend, besides, it's only seven months until his birthday, he can wait that long easily. Gotta have patients sometimes for an experiment to work, this is no different.

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

This is the second to last chapter


	60. First Date

Sherlock's POV  
I'm nervous, he realizes as he changes shirts yet again. Why is he nervous? He's known John for over two years. They've been friends almost the entire time, and it's been more than a year since he was John's patient. So why is he nervous? He shouldn't be nervous.

"You're nervous because it's the first time you've gone out on a date, with your first real significant other, and you're worried about cocking it up," Jim announces as the agent appears behind, leaning against the door stop lazily, meeting his gaze in the mirror he's currently looking at.

"Am not," he protests, even though the words sound false to himself and he has to internally admit that's exactly what he is worried about.

"Wear the red shirt or the indigo shirt," the psychopath suggests, "Your clothing tastes have improved over the years, but I still have a better fashion sense."

"Fashion," he snorts, "how bor-ring."

Snickering his unusual friend says nothing else, simply watches as he changes into the purple shirt.

"What do you want Jim?" he eventually asks as he grabs the black jacket to pull on.

"Nothing much, Jasper told me I wasn't allowed into my flat for another thirty-five minutes, as he can be vindictive for someone with a conscious, I decided to come bother you instead." The psychopath replies with a shrug.

He snorts again, "What did you do to piss him off this time?"

Dark eyes go wide as Jim plays at innocent, "Me? I don't know what you're talking about, I'd never piss off Pike."

Smirking, he retorts, "I could give you a list of times you've pissed him off that I know about."

"Well," the psychopath drawls, "I get to go undercover as myself, and he's not exactly happy with what I am supposed to be doing. We can discuss that later, like next week's meeting of insane people."

He arches one dark brow. Turning towards Jim and carefully looking the psychopath over, trying to get a read on what is not being said. He's gotten better at it, but Jim, Jasper, and Mycroft can still confuse him when they try. Thankfully Pike doesn't feel the need to do so most the time, his brother doesn't bother as a rule, which leaves only Wildcard to challenge him on it.

"You're bringing the network back as a syndicate for some reason, rather than just an intelligence network." He states as he realizes what the psychopath meant.

"Yep," Jim replies, popping the 'p' sound. "We'll be discussing the boring details at dinner on Tuesday."

He nods, turning his attention back to his preparations for getting ready for his date. He's clean, well dressed, has the money, and ready to go. All he has to do now is go meet John at the doctor's flat so they can go to Angelo's.

"Taking a cab or want to be dropped off?" the psychopath asks curiously as they leave his flat in Mrs. Hudson's building. He's only been living on his own for a few weeks, and he misses having someone else around. He's pretty sure that Jim knows and it's part of why the psychopath likes to just show up, along with the other three agents in their little group of friends.

Friends.

Three years ago he never would have imagined having friends. Now he belongs to a small group of them. John was his first friend, the person who accepted him first for himself without any other expectations or requirements. Jasper and Jim confused him for the longest time. Jasper is his cousin, so for a while he didn't know if the protectiveness was from that, because he was a job, or something else. Eventually Jim had spelled it out for him, along with explaining the psychopath's logic behind liking him. Alec he had gotten along with since day one. He didn't have to ask what happened, he knew, and he didn't care. It was more interesting all the languages the spy could teach him, and shockingly enough willingly taught him. James is the one he has the least connection to, mostly because he has a habit of announcing whatever stupid thing the agent has done lately and why it pissed off Jasper. He's even becoming friends with Lestrade, sort of, slowly, as he does cases for the detective. Maybe someday that'll be a real friendship.

"Cab," he distractedly answers as they step outside.

Jim just nods, strolling off and whistling some pop song.

Raising a hand, he flags down a cab and chuckles when he discovers it's one of the network cabbies.

"Doctor Watson's office," he tells the man, slipping in and closing the door.

The driver takes the second best route to the office, managing to avoid traffic. "If you want to wait a moment, we will be needing a ride."

"I can do that," the cabbie agrees with a nod.

He slips out of the car and heads towards the building.

John meets him just inside the door, —Hello Sherlock. —

—Hi John,—he responds happily. —Hungry?—

—Famished, — the blonde replies with a grin, turning to bid the receptionist goodnight before they exit the building.

The cab hasn't moved, so they climb in and he gives instructions where to go next. The ride there is peaceful. They sit close together, his larger hand lightly laying over John's smaller one. His date flips his hand up, and squeezes, making him smile and blush.

When they get to Angelo's, the large man puts a candle on their table, happily babbling while he ignores it.

After several minutes watching the host as he go on about how Sherlock recently got him off a murder charge, John looks at him and asks, —Does he always go on like this?—

He nods, —Yes, but the food here is excellent, so it's worthwhile. —

—Do we wait to order until he's done, or just interrupt to give it? — his date asks curiously, glancing at the menu.

—I just order, — he answers with a snicker. "Angelo, we're ready to order," he interrupts the big man.

Finally their host falls quiet, waiting for them to order.

"Baked pasta with butternut squash and smothered in cheese," John states slowly, carefully enunciating each word.

His lips curl in a small smile. One of the things he has come to enjoy over the last few years is when his friend decides to speak aloud, because he likes the doctor's voice.

Glancing at Angelo, he remarks, "My usual."

Nodding, the owner hums, "I'll get that in right now."

Once the big man is gone, he glances at John and then away as his skin heats up again. He's been playing out their first date for the last two years in his head, but he apparently couldn't get it just right. They sit together in peaceful silence while they wait for their meal. It's the same sort of quiet acceptance that had started their friendship back when he couldn't speak, and he still appreciates it.

When Angelo sets their dinner down and tells them to enjoy, he mutters, "Thank you," just because he has been trying to work on his manners even though it mostly fails.

—This smells delicious, — John comments before spearing a piece to try. Making a humming noise of pleasure, his date sets the fork down to state, —This was a wonderful idea, thank you Sherlock.—

His blush from earlier comes back, his eyes darting around the room as he process and automatically registers the various people. He just nods, not sure what he should say. Maybe he should have asked James for advice, after all, everyone in their group knows how much of a playboy the spy can be.

—How are you liking your new flat?— The blonde asks a bit later, after giving him some time.

Grinning, he answers, —I really like it! My relationship with Mycroft might be a lot better now than it used to be, but I seriously don't like living with my brother and found myself crashing at one of Jim's places far more often than I would sleep there after I stopped being under watch all the time. —

Chuckling, John nods in understanding, —Jim mentioned you were getting along famously with his network of troublemakers.—

—I sort of work for Jasper, it's not a massive income, but it's nice not to be reliant on the trust. — He replies happily, he enjoys his work, mostly finding people who go missing or tracking down information. It's not quite what he wants to do with his life, but as he hasn't got that totally figured out, he's okay with it. What he enjoys even more is the work he does for Lestrade sometimes. Those are fun, between the hunt and capture, he has a blast. It challenges him to think like other people, be able to prove it with physical evidence beyond the basics that he sees, so that normal people can see it to. Of course, sometimes it's boring having to explain it to the normal people. He also ends up with some of Lestrade's cases while doing work for Jasper, which he almost always finds fun. Of course, he's told John all about his work, and his friend, no boyfriend, always praises his intelligence when he figures out things no one else can.

—I get that, I know how happy I was when the clinic started paying for itself rather than using the money I was given to start it. It's quite an accomplishment.— The blonde tells him with a warm smile. —Still annoying your brother by making him go through Jasper when he wants you to solve something?—

—Of course! It's fun watching his frustrated expression and Pike is almost as mischievous as Wildcard,— he answers with a snicker. —I'm still not sure what's happening between Jim and Mycroft.—

Chuckling, John retorts, —I don't think they know either. —

Again they fall into a comfortable silence, the sounds of the restaurant seeming almost muted in their small bubble as he enjoys his meal with his boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

That word sends zings of pleasure through him. Someone not only likes him enough to have him as a friend but also as a significant other. Of course, they haven't used the label 'boyfriend', instead they've been using 'partner' and he's alright with that because it has the same connotations.

After dinner, they leave Angelo's and just take a rather relaxing walk together. It's nice, just getting to walk without any sort of purpose, as it's mostly dark except the street lights, they don't really talk. Instead they wander, occasionally pointing things out as lighting allows, or using their phones to text each other in darker stretches. Along the way they run into several of the network and John's patients, each giving them either a nod of recognition or a cheery hello.

He's startled when they find themselves at his flat hours later, he hadn't realized they were heading that way. Should he invite John up? Yes, yes he should, and offer tea, because he's not ready for tonight to be over. He's been enjoying the company, both when they are discussing things and just quietly spending time together.

—Would you like to come up for some tea? — he asks almost hesitantly.

John's been in his flat before, but this the first time since they started dating, and he's not sure of what he should do. Note to self: ask James and Alec for dating advice. He'd ask Jasper, but his cousin has never dated someone to his knowledge, and while Jim teases his cousin, there hasn't been anything that that lets him know who it's about. It's one area that Jasper has remained hard to read on. Jim, well, there's no way he'd ask the psychopath for dating advice.

He grins, he's got people he can ask, that's so very different than his life used to be.

—I'd love to,— John answers, drawing him out of his mind.

His grin widens as he quickly unlocks the door and heads upstairs, knowing that the blonde won't be too far behind. The night's not over, maybe, if he's lucky, it's the beginning of something amazing.

* * *

I write do commissions for those who are interested, the info can be found on my tumblr JaimiStoryTeller under Donations, Commissions, and Cosmos

I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi

*waves* this is it. Stillness in Silence is now done. There will be a lot of other stories in this universe. I have a few of those stories started, but won't be posting until I get them done, for my own mental health reasons. Follow the series to get notifications when I start posting, or follow me for all story updates.


End file.
